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[email protected] Systematische Musikwissenschaft richtet ihr Erkenntnisinteresse häufg auf Zeitpunkte statt auf Zeiträume. Dies ermöglicht es, Prozesse musikalischer Pro- duktion und Rezeption detailliert in den Blick zu nehmen – von akustischen Messungen am Instrument bis zur Hirnforschung am Musikhörer, von einer Prob- lematisierung des Begriffs der „Musikalität“ bis zur Einbeziehung musikbezoge- ner Geschlechter- oder Globalisierungsforschung. Entsprechend vielfältig sind die Anforderungen an methodische, häufg empirische Innovationen sowie an die dazugehörige Theorieentwicklung. Zugleich werden bevorzugt aktuelle oder gesellschaftsrelevante musikkulturelle Phänomene thematisiert. Die Reihe Sys- tematische Musikwissenschaft hat es sich zur Aufgabe gemacht, durch Veröffen- tlichung von Überblickswerken, Monographien und Diskussionsbänden das Spannungsfeld zwischen Theorie und Empirie in der Systematischen Musikwis- senschaft mit neuen Inhalten zu bereichern.

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Contemporary Popular Music Studies Proceedings of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music 2017

[email protected] Editors Marija Dumnić Vilotijević Ivana Medić Institute of Musicology Institute of Musicology Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts Belgrade, Serbia Belgrade, Serbia

ISSN 2570-0367 ISSN 2570-0383 (electronic) Systematische Musikwissenschaft ISBN 978-3-658-25252-6 ISBN 978-3-658-25253-3 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-658-25253-3

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[email protected] Table of contents

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[email protected] Introduction

Marija Dumnić Vilotijević, Ivana Medić Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, Institute of Musicology, Belgrade, Serbia [email protected], [email protected] This chapter provides introductory remarks to the book and overviews all papers – including their methodologies and examples – with respect to the editors’ division into particular themes (history and theory of popular music, education and popular music, punk, electronic dance music, popular music ensembles, popular music video, popular music festivals, new issues and approaches). Their posi- tioning within the framework of the 19th Biennial Conference of the Internation- al Association for the Study of Popular Music (Kassel, 26–30 June 2017) is considered, as well as their contribution to contemporary popular music studies.

Keywords: popular music studies, history of popular music, theory of popular music, popular music and education, issues in popular music studies

The volume Contemporary Popular Music Studies: Proceedings of the 19th Conference of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (Kassel, Germany, 26–30 June 2017) presents the continuation of the publishing activity within Springer’s series “Systematische Musikwissenschaft” (edited by Jan Hemming) related to the 19th Biennial IASPM conference held in Kassel in 2017. The present volume includes twenty six technically and stylistically edited papers, whose abstracts were approved by the IASPM Academic Committee, even though several of them were not presented at the conference (cf. Merrill and Hemming 2017). This volume ends with the “Erratum” section containing one correction/addition which refers to the previous volume in this series (Mer- rill 2017). The IASPM conference was organized by the University of Kassel at the interesting building of Kulturbahnhof – an old train station transformed into a venue for cultural events. It was an excellent opportunity for approximately 300 popular music scholars from five continents to engage in intellectual exchange, to present their research (in the form of panels or individual papers) and to learn about recent achievements of popular music studies from the perspectives of

© Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden GmbH, part of Springer Nature 2019 M. Dumnić Vilotijević und I. Medić (Hrsg.), Contemporary Popular Music Studies, Systematische Musikwissenschaft, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-658-25253-3_1

[email protected] 10 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević, Ivana Medić humanities and music performance. This was an especially fruitful occasion to familiarize with the activities of the members of IASPM D-A-CH (German- speaking branch). There were six conference streams: researching popular music, analysing popular music, teaching and learning popular music, remapping popular music, narrating popular music, technology and popular music; and all of them were divided into subthemes. Almost one half of papers in this volume belong to the first theme, but since other papers also contribute to the research of popular music in general, we conceived another thematic conception of the book. Definition and conceptualization of the notion of “popular” are still among the topics of popular music studies, especially in different geographical and historical contexts, hence the book opens with this theme. Contemporary popular music studies, with the potential of becoming an important part of the future of music education, finally enter the curricula at different levels of education, so it is necessary to present experiences ranging from informal education to the highest stages of learning. The variety of musical genres is a fundamental topic for popular music studies and they require diversified methodological approaches (sociological, ethnographical, musicological, performative etc.), and this volume contains case studies on punk and its history, as well as electronic dance music. Contem- porary popular music studies rely heavily on sociology, but their research object implies an equivalent attention to the analysis of music. One of the themes that permeates these two “worlds” and shows excellent achievements of interdisci- plinarity is the research on popular music ensembles. Popular music has long been inseparable from music video, so this theme is also present in the book with very interesting interpretations of visual and cinematic symbols. Staging music at festivals is one of the most important modes of its presentation, hence their spectacularism, composition and economy must also be examined within popular music studies. Finally, vital fields such as production of popular music and related studies imply fresh themes and approaches, thus the concluding part of the book is devoted to the topics which open some new pathways for popular music studies. The first part of the book “History and theory of popular music” contains four papers related to the definition of popular music, the history of popular music and popular music studies in two European countries, with an insight into the relation of popular music and literature. In his paper “Defining popular music: Towards a ‘historical melodics’”, Sergio Mazzanti bravely aims to redefine popular music from the perspective of a linguist. After consulting major published theories of popular music (Theodor W. Adorno, Richard Middleton, Si- mon Frith, Philip Tagg, Franco Fabbri), Mazzanti introduces the theory of Rus- sian nineteenth-century semiotician Alexander Veselovsky and uses Veselov-

[email protected] Introduction 11 sky’s “historical poetics” in order to provide his own non-normative theory of popular music. In the paper “Popular music studies in Kassel and the Germanies – looking back, looking ahead”, Jan Hemming narrates an exciting story about the development of popular music studies in Germany during the Cold War. Based on the interviews Helmut Rösing, Falk René Beigang and Alenka Barber- Keršovan, he outlines a brief history of the discipline and the institutions in Germany, emphasizing the role of the IASPM. In her paper “Urban folk music and cultural influences: Labels for narodna muzika (folk music) in Serbia in the twentieth century” ethnomusicologist Marija Dumnić Vilotijević contributes to the establishing of popular music research in Serbia and remapping of European popular music studies in general by considering a century-long history of the widespread phenomenon of urban folk music, which has not been extensively researched thus far; in doing so, she reviews ethnomusicological literature and describes the situation in the local popular music market. Cláudia Neiva de Ma- tos provides an interesting history of the writings of the “men of letters” about popular song in Brazil, written from a philological perspective. Her paper “Popu- lar song and literary scholarship: Interactions between criticism and artistic creation” presents artistic and critical production and discusses various questions which emerge from the relation between poetry and song. The second part of the book, “Education and popular music”, begins with the paper written by Donna S. Parsons who, unfortunately, passed away before the publication of this book. In her final contribution to the field of popular music, she provided the description of an undergraduate course that she conducted at the University of Iowa School of Music; her experience of the teacher may be inspiring for other similar projects in future. Namely, her “memoir project” dealt with the topic of female popular musicians from the 1920s onwards); by examining their biographies, students asked important social questions and presented results of their research. In the paper titled “Group listening, a typical practice of popular music applied to musician training” Elina Goldsack presented her experience as a music educator in Argentina. She deals with listening as a socializing practice, developing group transcription. María Inés López’s paper “Curricular orientations of secondary school specializing in music in Argentina: Input for inserting popular music into educational institutions” describes the project of official including of popular music in the education at the secondary school level in Argentina. Marta García Quiñones discusses music and everyday listening in the paper “Studying listening to recorded popular music: A methodological overview and some suggestions for future research”. She overviews the literature dealing with listening to recorded popular music, emphasizing the psychological methods. After these articles related to the teaching and listening processes, Daniel Fredriksson’s paper “Pathways of pop: Arts and education policy, stud-

[email protected] 12 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević, Ivana Medić ieförbund and genre hierarchies” deals with musicians’ agency, i.e. cultural policy, music education and music industry as related to popular music in Sweden, using the example of organizations called studieförbund. He problematizes the economy of music using the example of the project Dalapop and applies the concepts of tactic and strategies (Michael De Certeau) and superculture (Mark Slobin). The next two parts of the book are devoted to particular popular music genres, namely punk and electronic dance music. The third part begins with exemplary detailed sociological overview of the academic literature about youth (sub)cultures. The article “Golfos, punkis, alternativos, indignados: Subterranean traditions of youth in Spain, 1960–2015”, written by Paula Guerra and Carles Feixa, offers a classification into seven major periods marked by youth styles which reflected social and cultural changes in the country. Paula Guerra and Ana Oliveira deal with sociological aspects of the beginning of punk in Portugal in the paper “Heart of glass: Gender and domination in the early days of punk in Portugal”. They emphasize the gender perspective with the problematization of ten narratives which depict female inequality in this popular music scene. Con- siderations about punk outside the Anglo-Saxon sphere conclude with the paper coauthored by Debora Gomes dos Santos, Ana Oliveira and Paula Guerra “One struggle, one fight, all day, all night: Punk cartographies in the subway of Sao Paulo and Lisbon”. They demonstrate the importance of urban space and its transitions as related to this particular cultural group by comparing the two cities’ historical soundscapes – in subways. The fourth part contains interesting methodological approaches to electronic dance music. In the paper “On analyzing EDM DJ sets: Problems and perspectives for a sociology of sound” José Gálvez analyzes EDM DJ sets and their technology. He is especially interested in the sonic materiality of popular music and “accelerated bodies” and he proposes perspectives for a sociology of sound. Marianne L. Keeler’s paper “An ethnographic investigation into the culture and people of the UK Free Party (illegal rave) scene in the twenty first century” employs feminist ethnography as found on the Internet in order to investigate the illegal rave scene in the United Kingdom. She analyzes quantitative and qualitative data, highlights provocative ethical dilemmas and focuses on the findings related to gender. The next three parts of the book are concerned with issues which are essential for popular music today. The section on “Popular music festivals” opens with Tobias Marx’ paper “Collaboration in semi-professional music groups”. He explores nonverbal collaboration within small bands of semi-professionals by analyzing statistical evaluation of videoed annotations of communication using the software ELAN. Francisco de Assis Santana Mestrinel in his paper “Samba

[email protected] Introduction 13 batucada: Flexibility and integration” analyzes Brazilian collective percussion practice and presents the relation between sound, rhythmical patterns and body movements. In the paper “‘Sing to the Lord a new song’: The interaction of religion and popular music in the case of Posaunenchor in the protestant church in Germany” Ryoto Akiyama describes the coexistence of religious and sacral conceptualizations of music in the case of this German protestant brass orchestra. Based on his ethnographical work and participatory performance, he demonstrates the effects of popular music on this practice. Jaqueline Soares Marques and Jusamara Souza consider popular folk music singing in duets in the paper “Musical formation of popular singers in Brazil: A case study with singers who sing in pairs música sertaneja – Brazilian country music”. They deal with aspects of socialization (primary, professional and musical levels) and professionalization, but also with the process of learning to sing this practice. The sixth part on “Popular music video” opens with Ivana Medić’s paper “Rock music videos in Serbia since the 1990s: The curious case of Jarboli”. She focuses on the history of Serbian alternative rock band Jarboli, active since the 1990s – a very dynamic political period locally. Medić analyzes four music videos in order to explain Jarboli’s artistic and social importance. In the paper “Queen Katy Patra represents ancient Egypt in pop music” Yvonne Vosmann offers a detailed analysis of the visual stereotypes related to the representation of “ancient Egypt” in the music video by Katy Perry. Fernand Hörner’s paper “An- alysing voice in popular music with categories of ‘voice’” draws on Mikhail Bakhtin’s metaphor of polyphony for the analysis of Prince’s music video “Kiss”, especially examining the notion of “voice”. Hörner describes aspects such as text, singing, music, visual performance, cinematic staging and, in particular, gender(ed) performance. The paper “Researching popular music through transmedia festivals” written by Bianca Ludewig opens the seventh section – “Popular music festivals”. Ludewig focuses on electronic and experimental music festivals and consequently on their economy. Using the method of multi-sited ethnography and the example of CTM festival in Berlin, she explains the notion of a transmedia festival. In the paper “The underground, dispossesion and positionality in Greek experimental music” Danae Stefanou presents the microhistory of improvisation and DIY scene in Athens, but also discusses the economy of music in relation to musicians’ labour characterized by precarity. The final part of the book comprises papers that engage with new approaches and current issues, such as the economy of popular music (indicated in the previous part), posthegemonic conditions of popular music and contemporary popular music in the postcolonial world. In the paper “Just for the fun of it? Contemporary strategies for making, distributing and gifting music”, Chris An-

[email protected] 14 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević, Ivana Medić derton discusses very important problems of the economy of music – its distribution, copyright and particularly gifting in the era of contemporary technology, such as free downloading or streaming. In his analysis of gifting modes (from netlabels to self-releases) which is based on two case studies, he applies the concept of composition (by Jacques Attali). Artur Szarecki’s paper “Towards posthegemonic popular music studies” provides an interesting theoretical proposition for the analysis of political dimensions of the sound and the affect of popular music, based on two music examples from the corporate world. The paper “‘Party music’, expression of identities, aesthetics and power in the African diaspora” by Frank Marcon compares the functioning of “African parties” and dance music genres from Africa (especially kuduro), according to Marcon’s ethnographic research in African diaspora in Lusophone countries, which examines the problems of identity, power and aesthetics related to “party music”. The papers in this book not only provide complex and multisided insight in- to the contemporary condition of popular music studies, but also offer directions for the future of the discipline. We hope that this book will find its readers among researchers interested in numerous phenomena and problems related to popular music, but also that it will be widely used as a textbook or reference book on popular music in the twenty-first century. Acknowledgements This article was written for the project Serbian Musical Identities within Local and Global Frameworks: Traditions, Changes, Challenges (No. 177004) financed by the Ministry of Education, Science and Technological Development of the Republic of Serbia. References Bibliography Merrill, J. Ed. 2017. Popular Music Studies Today: Proceedings of the International As- sociation for the Study of Popular Music 2017. Wiesbaden: Springer. Merrill, J. and J. Hemming Eds. 2017. Popular Music Studies Today: Abstracts for the Conference of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music, June 26—30, Kassel, Germany. Kassel: University of Kassel.

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History and theory of popular music

[email protected] Defining popular music: Towards a “historical melodics”

Sergio Mazzanti Università di Macerata, Dipartimento di Mediazione Linguistica, Macerata, Italy [email protected] Alexander Veselovsky, the father of formal methods and semiotics, defined “historical poetics” as the study of the role of tradition in individual creativity; this can be applied to music studies, in order to explain the relationship between repetition and originality and better define popular music, in its differences with; folk and classical music, respectively. The theory of “primitive syncretism” can show how new musical genres and styles often arise from older ones through the separation of their secondary features. The distinction between motif and plot, with its explanation of complex elements as composition of smaller ones, provides parallels with many popular music structures (riffs; chorus/bridge/verse; chord progression, etc.). The concept of cultural borrowing as “counter-flows”, according to which the receiving culture actively selects and readapts the received elements, fits, inter alia, with non-Anglo-American versions of rock. Therefore, historical poetics provides a good ground for a dynamic, non- normative theory of popular music, both as a whole and in its parts.

Keywords: historical poetics, methodology, Veselovsky, music genres, repetition, popular culture

Introduction Most researchers agree with the assumption that popular music is difficult, or even too difficult to define (Shuker 2005: xii). It is indeed very challenging to embrace such a big, heterogeneous and quickly developing phenomenon. Yet it is quite strange that there are no definitions at all of popular music in proper scientific terms. There are, of course, many “popular” definitions by journalists, musicians and amateurs, but they do not aspire to be compelling or precise. On the other hand, after more than thirty five years of history, the study of popular music (assuming the creation of IASPM as a point of departure) have not provid-

[email protected] 18 Sergio Mazzanti ed a shared definition of their object of research, as if it would be impossible, useless or even deleterious to apply precise criteria to culture (a point of view perhaps due to the partially understandable skepticism towards abstractness of some extreme formalist and structuralist schemes; cf. Tagg 1982: 43). Important researchers such as Middleton (1990), Tagg (1982), Fabbri (2010), Frith (2004), Shuker (2005) and others have not yet attempted a proper definition, in spite of their many articles and papers on “What is Popular Music”, even if they have made significant contributions to understand popular music and explain why such a complex phenomenon can be viewed as a whole, a field worthy to be grouped in a single category. In this paper I will combine the achievements of popular music studies with the conception of literary process of the nineteenth century Russian scholar Al- exander Veselovsky. As a specialist in literature with a relatively small experience in music studies, I do not presume that my definition will satisfy everyone, but I think that a point of view “from aside” can give some new stimulus to the debate. To begin, I will point to some conditions that a definition must satisfy in order to be fully scientific. 1) First of all, a definition must be necessary and sufficient. That is, every example of the defined object must fit the definition and everything fitting it must be considered an example of the defined object. 2) This first condition does not absolutely exclude “hybrids”: in all disciplines dealing with human beings, categorization is always a matter of gradation; therefore, there will be always gray areas, but they do not invalidate the possibility of and need for categories, more likely serving as a verification, demonstrating the differences between adjacent categories. 3) Categories must be all-inclusive, e.g. each category must be defined in opposition to the others, in order to cover all of the reality. Every musical unit must either fit one category, or be a hybrid, if it falls within two or more categories. 4) A definition must also make a distinction between primary and secondary elements, including only the first as necessary. It does not mean that the latter are less important, as they are what people mostly perceive as typical of the genre: but secondary elements constitute the history, rather than the essence of a category. 5) Definitions must be non-normative, that is, “norms, rules, codes, […] defining a genre or music type must be discovered empirically, and […] not based on scholars’ assumptions” (Fabbri 2010: 81): they must help to explain the object of study, be constantly challenged by new phenomena and, when the need

[email protected] Defining popular music 19 arises, be modified or even rejected if they can not keep pace with such developments. Discussing, criticizing and improving definitions helps researchers to understand the essence of reality; in other words, defining is one of the main, if not the most important goal, of academic studies. Definitions or descriptions? The first attempt to define popular music, as it is known, belongs to Theodor Adorno, who considered it in opposition to “serious music” (1941). Despite his negative approach towards popular music, Adorno points at some important aspects, such as the role of variations in “serious” and popular music: even though it is not true, as Adorno states, that “the parts of a piece of popular music are always interchangeable” (Longhurst 2007: 4), “standardization”, involving a high degree of repetitions and combinations of elements, is a very important aspect in popular culture. Also useful can be Adorno’s concept of “pseudo- individualization” (Adorno 1941: 25). The pioneers of popular music studies (Middleton, Frith, Tagg, Fabbri and others) set for themselves the target to stress the specificity of popular music, and to highlight the importance of a deeper analysis of “everyday music” of the majority of the people (or at least the majority of Westerners). Middleton “places popular music in the space of contradiction and contestation lying between ‘imposed’ and ‘authentic’” (Shuker 2005: 69). Through the concept of “popular”, the new field of study found a perfect place in the context of the so called “cultural studies”, that is the territory between traditional/folk culture and “art”, as an expression of individuality. Middleton, in his capital work Studying Popular Music (1990: 4), gives a good categorization of the different attempts to define popular music, dividing them into:

a) normative definitions: popular music is an inferior type; b) negative definitions: popular music is not something else (“folk” or “art” music); c) sociological definitions: popular music is associated with a particular social group; d) technologic-economic definitions: popular music is disseminated by mass media and mass marker. The first group, quite common in traditional musicologist environments, is denied in popular music studies by definition; the third (popular music as the music of the youth, the middle class, or the urbanized population) and fourth groups

[email protected] 20 Sergio Mazzanti

(pointing at the role of mass media, commercialization and technology, especially of the recordings) focus only on one or some elements of the defined object. We can mention, for example, Simon Frith’s definition of popular music (2004: 3–4):

a) music made commercially, in a particular kind of legal (copyright) and economic (market) system; b) music made using ever-changing technology, with particular reference to forms of recording or sound storage; c) music, which is significantly experienced as mediated, tied up with the twentieth-century mass media of cinema, radio and television; d) music which is primarily made for pleasure, with particular importance for the social and bodily pleasures of dance and public entertainment; e) music which is formally hybrid, bringing together musical elements which cross social, cultural and geographical boundaries. Rather than a real synthetic definition, this looks like a list of elements more or less present in popular music, furthermore in a Western context: commercialization, technology, media, entertainment. The most interesting and the least ethnocentric element is probably the last one, the “hybridization”. Tagg’s (1982: 42) attempt to define popular music refers to the second group in Middleton’s typologization, based on the trichotomy folk – art – popular music:

[email protected] Defining popular music 21

! As in Frith’s case, this scheme does not presume to give a real definition, as made clear by the use of words such as “primarily”, “usual”, “mainly”, “mostly”, “common”. However, comparing popular music with, respectively, art and folk music highlights its place between the other two macrogenres, since it shares features with both of them. It is interesting to note that some of the characteristics outlined in Tagg’s scheme (namely “type of society” and “composer/author”) can be viewed as stages of the socio-cultural development of Western civilization: popular music and art music, for example, are both present in industrial societies and share the modern meaning of authoriality. I found the closest example of what I take for a real definition of popular music in Franco Fabbri’s preface to his “brief history of Popular music”:

During the nineteenth century, and more crucially in the first decade of the twentieth, in different parts of the world […] appear the conditions of a functional, economic, ideological separation, between popular music, on one side, and art music

[email protected] 22 Sergio Mazzanti

[…] on the other side, and at the same time between “commercial” popular music and traditional/ritual music. […] it can be said that the dichotomy art music — folk music was progressively substituted by a trichotomy art music — folk music — popular music, where popular music incorporates elements previously included in the other two categories, marking their commercialization, and therefore industrialization (Fabbri 2008: 3). Fabbri explains quite well the relationship of popular music to traditional and art music and, most importantly, fixes popular music as the result of the separation from the other two macro-genres, a separation placed in historical time and place. However Fabbri’s statement is not yet a full definition, since it does not specify which elements were incorporated in popular music. Secondly, we face the problem of the definition of the “popular”, a very difficult task, but crucial for the identity of popular music studies. I will try to show how these issues find a synthesis in the theories of the nineteenth-century Russian scholar Aleksander Veselovsky, providing the basis for a new definition. Veselovsky’s historical poetics Alexander Nikolaevich Veselovsky (1838–1906) was an influential nineteenth- century Russian scholar and one of the most learned and international academics in humanities of the time. By the end of his life, he conceived Historical poetics, a book and, at the same time, a whole new discipline, reassuming the enormous legacy of his works and methodological issues. Even if he could not complete his project (cf. Veselovsky 2006: 5–50), his theories influenced all twentieth-century Russian philology very strongly (Jakobson, Propp, Bakhtin, Lotman, Meletinsky, and many others), and he can truly be considered the “father” of all formal methods, including formalism, structuralism, and semiotics. Veselovsky defined “historical poetics” as the study of the role of tradition in individual creativity (Veselovsky 2006: 537). This diachronic approach was associated with a synchronic perspective, in many aspects preceding De Saus- sure’s linguistics. Since formalists (and also to some extent semioticians) developed only Veselovsky’s synchronic approach, but mostly refused his historical, context-based aspect, a way to exit the late twentieth-century crisis of formal methods could be returning to their first “forerunner” (Erlich 1980: 26–32). The history of literary genres is viewed as the result of human cultural evolution, responding to the development of individuum. This anthropological approach (Tylor, Frazer etc.) in historical poetics is balanced by a particular attention to the ways every nation re-elaborates all-human forms in order to satisfy its sociocultural exigences in every particular geo-historical moment. Cultural history can hence be viewed as the result of the intersection of “relative chronology”, the

[email protected] Defining popular music 23 organic evolution of human culture, and “absolute chronology”, a single point in the time and space of a specific context. This approach can explain both the similarities between different cultures and their differences, as single realizations of human evolution, that vary due to geographical differences and interactions with other cultures. Furthermore, Veselovsky substitutes the traditional concept of “borrowing”, with the idea of “counter-flows” (cf. Mazzanti 2013: 71), according to which the receiving culture actively selects and readapts the borrowed elements according to its inner exigences, assembling them with traditional elements. Veselovsky puts “primitive syncretism”, when music, words and dance were fused together inside the ritual, at the beginning of the cultural processes that will lead to the formation of literature in a modern sense. Progressively, and in different times and places of the world, single elements detached from the whole, creating three new genres: epics, lyrics and drama. Since other genres, according to Veselovsky, arise from the separation of secondary elements from older genres and are mostly combinations of epics, lyrics and drama, we may call these latter ones “macro-genres” to distinguish them from the others. Veselovsky finds one of the main explanations of these separations in the development of individuum, with the progressive growth of the self- consciousness of the author: at the beginning of this process, primitive cory- phaeus might have progressively increased his role from the other participants of the ritual, ipso facto becoming a “poet”, but he went on for a long time feeling himself part of the people. As the poet gets more and more conscious of his au- thorness and individuality, he can no longer create authentically “popular literature”. The individualization and, accordingly, “depopularization” of culture happens in different times in different contexts according to relative and absolute chronology. The more individualized the society, the more people need and create differentiated literary genres. We can apply Veselovsky’s approach to what we have said about popular music features to propose a new definition. What is popular music? We can summarize the best attempts to define popular music in the following way. It must be defined in opposition to folk and art music (Middleton), sharing features with both of them (Tagg): syncretization and appropriation (Frith) are present also in folk music; popular music first and more clearly appeared in the same society that created art music, sharing with it the idea of authorship. The separation of popular music from the other two categories must be contextual- ized in time and place (Fabbri).

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From a historical poetics perspective, art music can be understood as the result of the individualization of music in a given society (Western Europe) and time (approximately from Renaissance to Romanticism), ipso facto creating the idea of folk music, a dichotomy that acquires meaning only in opposition to art music. Art music, was at first only dominion of high social layers; as the individuum widespread in lower social strata art music began to be understandable by more and more people. Where the society becomes highly individualized, true folk music becomes impossible, since both the singer and the composer cannot fuse themselves into the masses anymore. This lack of an authentic music of the people as a whole will progressively lead to a search for new ways of expressing the need to share moments with the community. Only in societies with a realized dichotomy folk / art music popular music can appear, as a type of music balancing art music with elements of folk music and creating a new kind of syncretization, mixing traditional and modern musical elements, often borrowed from the outside and reappropriated. Therefore, in a historical poetics perspective we can define popular music as: re-popularized music in an individualized society. This definition cannot be accused of ethnocentrism, since individualization is a phenomenon objectively present in every culture development, with a different time according to stadial evolution and intersections with other cultures. This definition explains the predominance of Western popular music, with the most individualized societies, and its wider influence in the world. It explains as well the importance of many “secondary elements” of popular music, such as commercialization and mediativeness, typical features in modern societies, but not primary in the definition of popular music. By the other hand, Western popular music often looks for inspiration in more traditional cultures, where “folk” music is less influenced by art music and therefore more “authentic”. All five criteria for a scientific definition mentioned in the Introduction are observed, since this definition tries to cover all the cases of popular music (1), and helps defining hybrids (2) as musics only partially fitting into it — jazz, rock’n’roll, blues and other genres are popular music since they use traditional musical elements in new ways, in order to answer to the increasing exigences of the individuum, and they are “popular” until they stop to be such (late “art jazz” and partially progressive rock). Every known music falls into one of the three macro-categories (3), being nearer or further to it: folk music re-elaborated by a single authors becomes popular music (namely “world music”) or art music, if the element of standardization (cf. Adorno) is less prominent. Secondary elements (for example electrification) are excluded (4), if there can be examples of popular music without it. This definition is not normative (5), since it departs

[email protected] Defining popular music 25 from empirically observed music and it is historically determined, and can be challenged by new changes in human musical development.

Conclusion This is just a first step towards a possible new approach to popular music studies, and hopefully in music studies on the whole. Veselovsky’s historical poetics can show a way for a “historical melodics”, that is, a non-normative and historically based study of human music, pointing at the role of individual creation in both musical human tradition and its specific local expressions. Veselovsky’s approach provides other highly useful clues for the study of musical forms, such as the distinction between “motif” and “plot” (Veselovsky 2006: 541–543), showing how complex forms are mainly combinations of sim- pler ones. The repetitions of single elements, as we have seen, are a crucial feature of the “popular”: riffs, alternation of strophic units (chorus, bridge, verse), chord progression and so on. If we want to develop the implications of the aforementioned definition, and if need be to modify it, we must also better define the two elements of the defined object: what is “music”, and “what is popular”? Every attempt at a definition is challenged by the ever-present ambiguity of the term, especially evident in Romance languages but present also in English, between popular as “traditional” (see folk music) and as “highly widespread”. The definition proposed in this paper at the same time confirms the validity of the label “popular music” (it is a popularized music), and shows its limits (we deal with a “re- popularization”), so that we can think about renaming it as “neo-popular music”. A further and broader analysis and empirical researches will show how much a historical melodics approach can help to explain the variety of existent and past musical forms in their complex relations with cultural history. References Adorno, T. 1941. On Popular Music. Studies in Philosophy and Social Science 9: 17–48. Erlich, V. 1980. Russian Formalism. The Hague: Mouton. Fabbri, F. ̶ 2008. Around the Clock: Una breve storia della popular music. Torino: UTET. 2010. What is Popular Music? And what Isn’t? An Assessment, after 30 Years of Popular Music Studies. Musiiki 2: 72–92. Frith, S. Ed. 2004. Popular Music. Critical Concepts in Media and Cultural Studies 1. London ̶ New York: Routledge. Longhurst, B. 2007. Popular Music and Society. Cambridge: Polity. Mazzanti, S. 2013. La ricezione di Aleksandr N. Veselovskij in Italia. Ricerche slavistiche 11 (57): 369–425.

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Middleton, R. 1990. Studying Popular Music. Milton Keynes ̶ Philadelphia: Open Uni- versity Press. Shuker, R. 2005. Popular Music. The Key Concepts. London ̶ New York: Routledge. Tagg, P. 1982. Analysing Popular Music: Theory, Method and Practice. Popular Music 2: 37–67. Veselovsky, A. N. 2006. Veselovskij A. N. Izbrannoe: Istoričeskaja poetika. Moskva: Rossnep.

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Popular music studies in Kassel and the Germanies – looking back, looking ahead

Jan Hemming University of Kassel, Music Institute, Germany [email protected] In the summer term of 1982, Philip Tagg taught a class on popular music at today’s Music Institute of Kassel University (then West Germany). He had been invited by (and stayed privately with) Helmut Rösing, Professor for Systematic Musicology. This was only shortly after the first international conference on popular music in Amsterdam and the founding of IASPM in 1981, and Peter Wicke setting up the “Centre for Popular Music Research” at the East-Berlin’s Humboldt-University in the same year. In Kassel, as a reprimand for teaching and writing about alleged “non-music”, the music education program for high school teachers was almost shut down. These controversies can hardly be understood today, but a nice collection of pop and rock LPs as well as a Moog- synthesizer in the institute’s property are remainders of those times. Rösing later took a leading role in Germany’s independent association for popular music studies (GfPM, founded as ASPM in 1984), while Wicke kept a close relationship to IASPM and its German-speaking branch. Even today, these gaps from the past could not be bridged and the two associations continue to coexist. In this paper, I will redraw the developments based on an oral history approach and address some of the consequences for German popular music studies today.

Keywords: popular music studies, IASPM, Germany, oral history, disciplinary history

Introduction This paper is part of my continuing effort to understand the institutional development of popular music studies in Germany from its very beginnings. We are speaking of the early 1980s, so there were two Germanies at the time. Up to the present day, two associations for the Study of Popular Music continue to co-exist and to compete to a certain degree in the German speaking countries. Their histo-

[email protected] 28 Jan Hemming ries are closely linked to either the Eastern or Western part of Germany respectively. The first one is the IASPM German speaking branch, nowadays IASPM-D- A-CH, which was originally affiliated to the “Forschungszentrum populäre Mus- ik/Centre for Popular Music Research” (FPM) which Peter Wicke had founded in 1981 at Berlin’s Humboldt-University in the German Democratic Republic (then East Germany). The second association was founded as ASPM (Ar- beitskreis für das Studium populärer Musik) by Helmut Rösing and Alenka Bar- ber-Keršovan 1984 in Federal Republic of Germany (then West Germany). It has remained independent from IASPM throughout the years, despite the obvious similarity in the acronym and the responsibilities Barber-Keršovan had taken on the executive committee of IASPM from 1987 ̶ 1989. To underline this independence, ASPM was renamed GfPM (Gesellschaft für Popularmusikforschung e.V./German Society for Popular Music Studies) in 2014. IASPM itself had been founded only shortly before the two German institutions in September 1981 by initiative of Philip Tagg. So this seems to have been a time of formation for popular music studies, and since not too many people were actually involved, the degree of cooperation between East and West Ger- man popular music scholars was quite high. For example, Barber-Keršovan, herself from Slovenia which was then part of Yugoslavia, helped Wicke and his staff to access international journals; they in turn invited West German scholars for guest lectures or meetings in East Berlin. It must have been in the course of these occasions when the West Germans realized and possibly became alienated by the fact that Marxist cultural theory was naturally adopted for the socio- economic analysis of popular music. This approach had been at the basis of seminal works from the Birmingham Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies (CCCS) since the 1960s. In West Germany however, the beginnings were marked by quite a different agenda which is outlined by Rösing himself in the brochure which the “Gesell- schaft für Popularmusikforschung” published for its thirtieth anniversary (GfPM 2014). First, the readiness to address popular music stemmed from a slowly but generally emerging tendency within musicology to open up for all kinds of music. Second, music pedagogy was pushed to update itself with regard to music which dominated the everyday life of school students. Future music teachers were to address this music in a professional fashion or at least one that gets beyond Adorno’s well-known verdict against popular music. It is typical, however, for early West-German scholars, that they were all classically trained and thus remained to a certain extent outsiders, albeit open to popular music. By contrast, the dominant ideology in East Germany had declared one of its early goals to convince the youth to dedicate their lives to the development of

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Socialism. Singing and popular music were regarded as appropriate means since the 1950s, and public music schools as well as music universities had quickly opened up for popular music which allowed for an increasingly professional training of its practitioners (Wicke 1997). As a matter of fact, one needed to be a trained musician in order to enter a career in popular music in the German Dem- ocratic Republic (Balitzki 2001: 72). Informal and self-taught learning thus played much less of a role than in many Western countries. Now, what is the difference between the Adornian verdict compared to Marxist cultural analysis of popular music? For Adorno, economic influence and aesthetic value are at the opposite ends of a spectrum. Studying popular music thus means to determine the degree of cultural industry influence, to criticize it and to call for a new conscience. In a way and of course in an updated form, this still seems to be typical for some West German popular music studies. The repeated call to direct more attention towards the aesthetics of Popular Music may serve as an example here (Von Appen 2007).

Figure 1. Folk music, art music, popular music: An axiomatic triangle (Tagg 1982: 42).

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Figure 2. Title page of Tagg’s Dissertation on Kojak (Tagg 1979). Marxism however sets economy absolute as all of history and culture is identified to be governed by economic principles. With regard to popular music, this somehow allows to factor out economy, to put it in front of the bracket and to thus ask the question “What else is interesting about this music?”. In my view, this has always been the strength of drawing on Marxist cultural theory when addressing popular music and to instead focus on its functions with regard to social structure or identity. The history of early international popular music studies provides plenty of examples here, the CCCS already being mentioned (Hemming 2016: 35 ̶ 44). At the same time, this does of course not automatically imply the adoption of political ideologies of Marxism or real Socialism. Neither Wicke nor Tagg actually did so. But they were always suspect of it to many West Germans, where Marxism and especially Marxist cultural theory is not

[email protected] Popular music studies in the Germanies 31 usually part of high school or university curricula. I thus had always thought this would be the main reason why West German popular music studies as represented by the “Gesellschaft für Popularmusikforschung” have kept some distance from IASPM and its central representatives. Quite a lot of informal personal communication is in support of this analysis. I was thus surprised when a long- standing music teacher from the surroundings of Kassel one day entered my office, looked at the bookshelf and said “Oh, Philip Tagg! I know him, he once used to teach a guest semester in Kassel when I was a student in the early 1980s”. He then went on to immediately list a whole lot of details from the seminars like Tagg’s axiomatic triangle of pop, folk and classical music or the seminal analyses of Kojak’s main theme. He also recalled Tagg always bringing along a box of records to provide the numerous musical examples needed to perform interobjective comparison, a procedure which is at the centre of his methodological approach based on the semiotics of music. It seems that these were really influential seminars. When Kassel’s music institute moved to a new building in 2010, I even found one of the original copies of Tagg’s Kojak book, quite a collector’s item nowadays. Back in the 1980s, what is now called “University of Kassel” tried to avoid the term “University” and was named “Gesamthochschule Kassel” (GhK) instead (which translates as “comprehensive university”). But how come Tagg had been hired as a visiting professor by Rösing, then – like myself today – professor for Systematic Musicology? Is the above analysis of Marxism wrong? I decided to find out by means of an oral history approach. Methods and materials Core material for the current investigation are three telephone interviews which I carried out with people relevant for the beginning of Popular Music Studies in Kassel and the Germanies. The first interview was held with Rösing on 8 June 2017 and lasted approximately sixty minutes. The second interview took place on 11 June 2017 and lasted approximately twenty five minutes. My interlocutor was Falk René Beigang, the music teacher mentioned above who had been a student in Kassel in the early 1980s. The third interview was conducted with Barber-Keršovan on 15 December 2017 in the process of preparing this article and lasted for about thirty five minutes. None of the interviews were recorded, only notes were taken down during the talk. It is a well-known fact that oral history can be an erroneous task as many of the memories reported naturally get blurred over time, and some can be revealed as personal constructions, dramatizations, embellishments etc. of both central and marginal issues (Abrams 2016). Thus, none of the facts provided can be taken for granted and a process of triangulation is always required when analys-

[email protected] 32 Jan Hemming ing the data. This also includes the consultation of other available material. For the current investigation, this involved information on various websites (especially IASPM archive and Tagg’s personal homepage), academic and other articles and sources, library archives, personal archives as well as personal communication not otherwise documented. All of these sources are now included in the list of references, but may not be as reliable or complete as typical academic literature. The date of Tagg’s actual appointment as visiting professor may serve as an example to illustrate this problem. The detailed listing on his homepage had stated the year 1986. In the telephone interview, Rösing recalled it must have been 1980, while Beigang said it must have been some time after he began his studies in 1981. Browsing through the archive of lecture directories at Kassel’s university library finally clarified this issue. It was the summer term of 1982:

Figure 3. Excerpt from Kassel’s lecture directory for the summer term of 1982. The titles translate as “Function and role of popular music in the current society” and “Selected questions regarding popular music”. The remark states “subject to approval of the position substitution” (Gesamthochschule Kassel 1982: title page and 222). Enriched summary of the interview with Helmut Rösing Rösing had heard about Tagg and his new analysis methods through his contacts with Alf Gabrielsson and John Sundberg in the field of empirical rhythm research. He was thrilled by Tagg’s detailed analyses of popular music and considered this approach twenty years ahead of its time. Rösing had then been invited by Tagg (e-mail communication between Tagg and the author on 13 July 2017) to deliver a paper at IASPM’s first meeting in Amsterdam in June 1981. Rösing recalls this was a rather small group consisting of some twenty people, while IASPM’s foundation document mentions hundred participants (Horn /?/ 1982). This is where Rösing and Tagg met for the first time. Rösing learned that an

[email protected] Popular music studies in the Germanies 33 international engagement would be good for Tagg’s nascent career. Subsequent- ly, he tried to hire him as a substitute for professor Georg Rebscher, who had just left Kassel. Rebscher himself had been a pioneer in including popular music in music pedagogy mainly through practice. For example, he had set up the nowadays legendary GhK Big Band in the mid-1970s and made a number of remarkable records. Albeit unproven, Rebscher must also have been influential in ap- pointing Rösing as professor for Systematic Musicology in 1978. Rösing describes himself as being open to all kinds of music (including popular and non- Western music) and focused on their functions and effects instead of aesthetic evaluation. As Tagg’s early degrees were also obtained in music pedagogy, he seemed like a good substitute for Rebscher. However, administration refused to release the necessary funding. The number of visits was thus reduced and Tagg stayed privately with Rösing and his wife to save on hotel costs. Rösing recalls a pleasant atmosphere with long breakfasts, but primarily personal talks and only occasionally addressing issues such as the foundation of IASPM. However, Rösing did not have the chance to attend Tagg’s seminars and was neither following up their actual agenda nor the reaction of the students. The funding of this visiting professorship also drew some attention inside and outside the GhK. Officials became greatly upset that such a thing as “non-music” became part of the curriculum. As a result, the responsible Ministry of culture and education in the state capital of Wiesbaden almost closed down the music program for senior high school teachers in Kassel. Soon thereafter, Tagg, himself without a secured university position, faced similar animosities which he recalls as follows:

Meanwhile, over in Amsterdam this weekend, high foreheads from the four corners of the earth (Sid and Doris Bonkers) will meet for the first International Conference on Popular Music at the University of Amsterdam. In between the cheese and wine parties, serious young men and women with goatee beards and glasses will discuss such vitally important issues as “God, Morality and Meaning in the Recent Songs of Bob Dylan”. Should be a barrel of laughs... (New Musical Express, cf. Tagg 1982: 37) These kinds of objections – be they academic, political or ironical – seem to be a shared experience of many early popular music scholars. Some kind of solidarity may have emerged as a consequence, such as Tagg quoting rather remote Rösing references in the very same article (Tagg 1982: 67), or Rösing joining the first temporary executive committee of IASPM (Horn /?/ 1982). However, they never entered a closer collaboration in the subsequent years. I directly addressed the issue of (potential) Marxist political orientation of Tagg and other IASPM scholars in the telephone interview, but Rösing denied he was turned away by these political positions. Instead, Rösing said that he preferred moderate “left-

[email protected] 34 Jan Hemming intellectual” orientations himself. He recalls however visiting East Berlin various times and feeling alienated by the amount of socialist doctrine at all levels (personal communication, student-exchange in seminars and lectures, library visits…). Summary of the Interview with Falk René Beigang Beigang states that the seminars must have taken place later than 1981 when he first became a music student in Kassel. Both seminars followed one after another on the same day. Beigang does not recall the number of session but guesses it must have been from two to four occasions when Tagg came to Kassel. He remembers him travelling back and forth from Sweden, but already making plans to move to the United Kingdom. The seminars had about twelve to sixteen participants. Tagg brought lots of materials, handouts and bibliographies, and it proved to be useful that he had a music education background himself. Tagg taught in English, but also accepted questions in German. Beigang remembers Tagg as being very friendly, charismatic, and he certainly had the feeling of attending something special. As already mentioned in the introduction, Tagg brought a lot of records and played only sound carriers, but no instruments in class. After the interview, Beigang tried to find some of the seminar handouts without success. Further institutional development This is how the story continued. Rösing or ASPM never pursued the idea of semiotics, which Tagg had applied with great success, any further. The main activities in the German-speaking branch of IASPM were left over to Wicke and the “Centre for Popular Music Research” at Berlin’s Humboldt University. Wicke personally recalls he set up the centre by attaching a sign to a door without asking anyone (Wicke 1994: 67).

Figure 4. Sign of the “Forschungszentrum populäre Musik” (FPM) at Humboldt Universi- ty. Left over after renovation in the 1990s and picked up by the author.

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He needed the affiliation to the IASPM German-speaking branch in order to be permitted to travel, so it was actually a friendly move that Rösing and Barber- Keršovan set up the ASPM independently. As a consequence, the FPM gradually built up its international contacts and cooperations and featured regular guest lectures of popular music scholars from all over the world since the mid-1980s (Wicke 1994: 68). Between 1987 ̶ 1991, Wicke became General Secretary of IASPM. In 1991, for its tenth anniversary, the FPM acted as convenor of the sixth IASPM conference in Berlin. ASPM instead focused on establishing the book series “Schriften zur Popu- larmusikforschung/Works in Popular Music Studies” and the edited book series “Beiträge zur Popularmusikfoschung/Contributions to Popular Music Research” (since 1986; mainly used for conference proceedings) which were joined by the online journal Samples in 2002. However, as ASPM remained independent from IASPM, many West German scholars gradually lost or never even got into contact to the international popular music studies. As a result, much of the West German approach seemed to be descriptive and lacking theory. Up into the 1990s, cultural theory or gender studies hardly played a role (communication with Barber-Keršovan during our first personal meeting in Hamburg 1998). Ex- cept for Barber-Keršovan, very few of the ASPM representatives ever attended international conferences. The result can be illustrated by a short example which I compiled myself when I was the editor of IASPM’s newsletter RPM from 2001 ̶ 2003:

A call for contributions about a new volume to be edited in Germany was circulated on IASPM-list “Pop sounds: Essays on the role of sound in popular music” which contained the sentence “reflection about ‘sound’ in popular music has been obviously neglected”. This verdict upset a renowned IASPM-US scholar who sent an immediate reply saying: “Gentlemen: You raise some excellent issues and questions [...]. But is it really fair to assert that sound has been ‘neglected’ in popular music studies?” He then goes on listing fifteen books addressing exactly this issue, just to give some examples (Hemming 2003). Eventually, the project brought about a successful volume (Phleps 2003). Still, it remains unclear why ASPM/GfPM has so heavily insisted on remaining independent after the political changes of 1989, and sticks to this position until today. This is addressed in the next interview. Enriched summary of the interview with Alenka Barber- Keršovan Barber-Keršovan confirms that Wicke and the FPM were seen as the main representatives of German popular music studies from IASPM’s beginnings in Am-

[email protected] 36 Jan Hemming sterdam 1981. She also points to the role of Günter Mayer, who seemed to have been sent along as an ideological supervisor at various times, whenever Wicke was permitted to travel to the West. Mayer even took a leading role in the first temporary executive committee of IASPM instead of Wicke (Horn /?/ 1982). ASPM’s original plan to become a West-German branch could not be realized because the idea was unacceptable to IASPM. The situation got even worse after 1989, when Wicke was the Secretary General and Simon Frith became the Chair of IASPM from 1991 ̶ 1993. They temporarily treated ASPM as branch and insisted they pay over a portion of their membership fees to IASPM. The dispute is documented in the minutes from the Seventh international conference in Stock- ton, CA, USA (Cohen 1993). Here the “membership secretary of the German branch”, which is Barber-Keršovan, gets mentioned sending “a letter to the Ex- ecutive Committee to explain that their dues had been spent elsewhere”. Barber- Keršovan confirmed in the telephone interview that ASPM executive and members had decided to put the money into the series of publications mentioned above instead. Thus, after the given deadline (15 August 1993), ASPM was no longer part of IASPM. As a result, a new German-speaking branch was set up in the mid-1990s by different scholars. I also inquired about ideological issues during the telephone interview. Bar- ber-Keršovan’s replies were more straightforward than those of Rösing. She confirms that many ASPM representatives had a problem with Marxist cultural orientations, and that the moderate left-intellectual attitude mentioned by Rösing is rather to be understood in the sense of the West-German Social Democracy. She also recalls an issue during and IASPM event in Dartington, UK, in 1984, where all conference participants were asked to show their solidarity with local miners by joining their strike and demonstration. This kind of direct political involvement was not at all what the West Germans had in mind. Barber-Keršovan has held the position of ASPM/GfPM-treasurer from the beginnings in 1984 up to the present day. Out of this perspective, and having been an individual member of IASPM simultaneously, she complains that IASPM has never managed to set up effective administrative or publication structures. The international list of members and their payments is always patchy, and hardly any of the conferences get documented in proceedings. In her point of view, which is shared by the current chair Ralf von Appen, it is still the best to retain ASPM’s independence. Triangulation and conclusions Many of the issues in question could be clarified by triangulation of the information from the oral history data (the telephone interviews) in addition with other sources. It thus becomes obvious that ASPM/GfPM has been more effec-

[email protected] Popular music studies in the Germanies 37 tive and successful in setting up structures in support on popular music studies in Germany than IASPM on an international level or its German-speaking branch. On the other hand, staying at a distance from the international network has led to severe shortcomings at various times, which could only be illustrated briefly in this report. To conclude, it seems that – apart from their genuine research topics – early popular music scholars seem to have been shaped by a permanent pressure to firmly “hold the ground” they once established. They will not let loose easily. Accordingly, the continuing split into two associations seems like a result of a few key individuals holding on to what they consider their personal achievements. It is my hope that the two associations will eventually merge in a few years. After all, the split was originally a result of having a divided Germa- ny. References Bibliography Abrams L. 2016. Oral History Theory. New York: Routledge. Balitzki J. 2001. Geschichten vom Sachsendreier: Lift ̶ electra ̶ Stern Combo Meißen. Berlin: Schwarzkopf & Schwarzkopf. Cohen S. 1993. Minutes from VII IASPM General Meeting ̶ Stockton, California/USA, 14 July 1993. http://www.iaspm.net/archive/Stockton93.PDF. Accessed: 22 December 2017. Gesamthochschule Kassel. 1982. Personen- und Lehrveranstaltungsverzeichnis: Sommersemester 1982. Kassel: Thiele & Schwarz. GfPM 2014. 30 Jahre 1984-2014. Hamburg: Gesellschaft für Popularmusikforschung/ German Society for Popular Music Studies. Hemming J. ̶ 2003. On IASPM International Membership. RPM ̶ Review of Popular Music 31: 3. 2016. Musikwissenschaft und populäre Musik: Ein theoretisches Rahmenmodell. In Methoden der Erforschung populärer Musik. Wiesbaden: Springer VS: 21 ̶ 50. Horn (?) D. 1982. The Foundation of IASPM. http://www.iaspm.net/archive/Foun- dation.PDF. Accessed: 21 December 2017. Phleps T. and von Appen R. 2003. Pop Sounds: Klangtexturen in der Pop- und Rockmusik. Bielefeld: transcript. Tagg P. 1979. Kojak. 50 Seconds of Television Music: Toward the Analysis of Affect in Popular Music. Göteborg: Göteborgs universitet. Tagg P. 1982. Analysing Popular Music: Theory, Method and Practice. Popular Music 2: 37 ̶ 67. Von Appen R. 2007. Der Wert der Musik: Zur Ästhetik des Populären. Bielefeld: transcript. Wicke P. 1994. Vom Unikum zum Unikat: Popmusik an der Humboldt-Universität. Hochschule Ost: 64 ̶ 71.

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Wicke P. 1997. Popmusikforschung in der DDR. In G. Maas and H. Reszel Eds. Popularmusik und Musikpädagogik in der DDR. Forschung – Lehre – Wertung. Augsburg: Wißner: 52 ̶ 68.

Interviews Helmut Rösing. 2017. Interviewed by Jan Hemming, 8 June. Falk René Beigang. 2017. Interviewed by Jan Hemming, 11 June. Alenka Barber-Keršovan. 2017. Interviewed by Jan Hemming, 15 December.

[email protected] Urban folk music and cultural influences: Labels for narodna muzika (folk music) in Serbia in the twentieth century

Marija Dumnić Vilotijević Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, Institute of Musicology, Belgrade, Serbia [email protected] This paper deals with urban folk music in Serbia (whilst considering its roots in pre-World War II Yugoslavia). During its history this music was influenced by cultural practices from the (Ottoman) East and from the West (from Austro- Hungarian to contemporary global pop), combined with local semi-rural lyrical repertoire. Urban folk music is regarded as specific traditional Balkan popular music. Urban folk music before World War II was a starting point for the later segregation of popular folk genres – “newly-composed folk” and “old urban” music. The first one was nominally progressive, designed for wider audience, based on rural music motifs but modernized by instruments (from accordions to an electric band). The second one was developed around the 1970s as a response to this phenomenon, and it was purposely regressive, evoking pre-World War II urban folk music by a particular repertoire and acoustic performance. Ever since they appeared, they have had a dynamic relation on popular music market. Their quality opposition is important, based not only on the attitudes about “authentic” folk music, but also on the use of influences from the West. According to the results of archival work and interviews with authors of “old urban music”, this paper explores traces of global popular music, their implications on aesthetic debates and characteristics of popular folk music in Serbia.

Keywords: urban folk music, popular music in Serbia, newly-composed folk music, old urban music

Introduction Terminology related to folk (vernacular, mass, popular) in music has been in the process of permanent debate since different musical forms started to be registered up to the present day’s (and meanwhile many more) reinterpretations of

[email protected] 40 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević status. Omnipresent music practices which are generally differing both from the canon of high art and the canon of uncontaminated rural archaic folklore are in a constant negotiation with these constructs; yet, these forms are often treated as less worthy. In this paper I will talk about labels for the term narodna muzika (“folk music”) which were present, on the one hand, in ethnomusicological discourse, and on the other at the popular music market, in Serbia during the twentieth century. The term “folk music” has been comprehensively used; however, for a long time Serbian ethnomusicology was devoted to musical folklore (that is, to rural heritage of supposed archaic origin), which suppressed “the other”, popular folk music. Fortunately, this hierarchy has been relativized since the end of the previous and the beginning of this century. The focus here will be on “urban folk music” (gradska narodna muzika), which is very popular under name of folk music, but which was one of the neglected areas in local ethnomusicology (and musicology) until recent writings (e.g. Dumnić 2016; Marković 2010). I will present the development of the urban folk music and offer nuances in terminology. Since cities have been centres of social activities and arenas for negotiation of different music practices, urban folk music was conditioned as any other popular music – with its production, reproduction, dissemination and consummation via mass media (Manuel 1988: 7), as well as with live performances. The definition of popular music by ethnomusicologist Bruno Nettl from 1972 was important for this research:

1) it is primarily urban in provenience and audience orientation; 2) it is performed by professional and trained, but normally not very highly trained musicians who usually do not take an intellectual view of their work; 3) it bears a stylistic relationship to the art music of its culture, but a lower degree of sophistication; 4) in the twentieth century, at least, its diffusion has been primarily through the mass media of broadcasting and recording (Nettl 1972: 218). From the standpoint that the phenomenon of urban folk music with its varieties is the pan-Balkan soundscape, my hypothesis is that particular cultural influences (i.e. their combination – Ottoman, Austro-Hungarian, contemporary national etc.) shaped particular genres of urban folk music in the twentieth century. It is obvious that this topic is huge, so in order to open the complex area of newly composed music in my future research of numerous non-researched primary sources, I will observe it from the perspective of knowing the music from which it originates (i.e. urban folk music before World War II) and the music which refers to it (musical folklore and the genre of “old urban music” – starogradska muzika). By “genre” I refer to Franco Fabbri’s “set of musical events […] whose course is governed by a definite set of socially accepted rules” (Fabbri 1981).

[email protected] Urban folk music and cultural influences: Labels for narodna muzika 41

The material which I used for this critical-analitycal presentation are mainly (authoritative insider) ethnomusicological writings concerned with definition, aesthetic and critique of folk music; media narratives about urban folk music (Radio Belgrade Illustrated Weekly – a detailed overview until World War II, selected articles from the postwar period as related to the theme) and personal in- depth interviews with prominent contemporary composers and performers of starogradska muzika, as well as commercial printed and sound carriers of music (78 rpm gramophone records’ catalogues; post-World War II production of Ju- godisk from Belgrade, Jugoton from Zagreb, Diskos from Aleksandrovac; instructive commercial scores of pre-World War II publisher Jovan Frajt, and of Nota from Knjaževac from the late twentieth century). The structure of this paper, which talks about “non-Western popular music” in Manuеl’s words (Manuel 1988) is: history of urban folk music in ethnomusicological discourse, history of “folk music” labels on popular music market, with an emphasis on interrelations among urban folk music genres. Urban folk music in ethnomusicology Urban folk music before World War II Urban folk music before World War II was often acknowledged by its urban (in general) or authorized origin and it was known under labels narodna (“folk”), laka (“light”), varoška (“of town” in northern areas), romansa, Schlager, sevdalinka. The last was a very popular label at the time, which has four meanings: a song from Bosnia, a song with Oriental sound, a very emotional (sad) love song, and a pejorative term for popular folk song (more about sevdalinka in: Milošević 1964). The last critical connotation of popular folk song is in the second half of the twentieth century replaced with narodnjak (which also may mean the person who sings folk music). Urban folk music was axiologically criticized (especially in print) in comparison to rural musical folklore: as non-authentic, with trivial and pathetic lyrics, banal music, exaggerated and improvized performance, dance function, Eastern and/or Western influences, a plethora of melodic orna- mentation which affects the understanding of text, a disrespect of local dialects, loudness, nontraditional instrumentarium and even temperation which was a repercussion of orchestral playing (e.g. Đorđević 1926: i). Speaking about critics, there were also numerous unwritten opinions about its high commerciality, bad language and visual vulgarity (especially of women), the supposed political background of that music industry (especially in the 1990s), and even technical abilities of performers and authors. Regardless of all that, this music flourished and it is massively consumed.

[email protected] 42 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević

For the attitude of the intelligentsia of the first half of the twentieth century, we can see the statements of a melographer and composer (proto- ethnomusicologist) Vladimir Đorđević from 1931:

The songs have been replaced with the songs from towns and folk instruments with the art ones. […] They are replaced by accordion or violin or clarinet or some another instrument. In villages, almost only urban songs and dances are now played on these instruments. That is the reason why I stopped collecting folk tunes in pre-War Serbia after the Great War (Đorđević 1931: xi). A typical attitude of an early ethnomusicologist toward urban folk music in Ser- bia, which was passed on to the younger generations, was sublimed by Miodrag Vasiljević (1960: 255–256). First of all, he opposed it to the rural musical folklore (which was “real folk music”), but he did not negate their mutual influences over time. Second, he categorized it in a large heterogeneous category of lyrical love songs. Third, he made differences between sevdalinka and other songs as new and old folk music. Fourth, he had a professional opinion about folk music in Belgrade (it could be called “music of citizens”). Folkloristic field research relevant for this topic (from 1930s, some research expeditions were done with sound recording) was conducted in the areas of Belgrade, Kosovo and Metohija, Sandžak, Vranje, Mačva and Vojvodina. It is interesting that many research excursions were made in the towns and in cooperation with recommended citizens, but that is not obvious from ethnomusicological publications, whose priority was to construct the repertory of rural folk music and to analyse its musical structure, with the narrative that urban music is threatening rural music (cf. Dumnić 2013). Urban folk music after World War II After World War II, ethnomusicological fundaments were similar, but the first problematization of urban folk music started. The relation of rural and urban in urban folk music in the socialist Yugoslavia was explained negatively among contemporaries – as a result of a cultural contamination of the village and, at the same time, the industrialization of the society, whose consequence was a massive migration from villages to cities, where newcomers brought in their musical habits and tastes. Ethnomusicology of that time was focused on rural musical folklore and, with its own maladjustment to the topic, it contributed to the fact that the discipline presented itself as distant from sensitive actual issues. Ethnomusicological works in Serbia which responded quickly to the topic of “new folk music” or “‘folk’ music” (i.e. urban folk music after World War II) were serious, but scarce. Certainly, the texts by Dragoslav Dević and, later, Di- mitrije Golemović are significant. They interpreted “newly-composed folk music” (novokomponovana narodna muzika) as the legacy of former urban folk

[email protected] Urban folk music and cultural influences: Labels for narodna muzika 43 music. Dević identified new, urban, newly composed folk music around the mid- twentieth century, and assessed it in accordance with the spirit of the folkloristic paradigm of that time:

Knowing everything which is recorded on gramophone records here (and that is also largely broadcasted on radio), we can see that it is a specific music tradition, cher- ished mostly in a city – the so called urban song, urban music folklore [Sic! M.D]. Thanks to the possibility to impose itself massively (via gramophone, radio, TV), the opinion that only that music is our folk music became usual. Urban musical folklore must exist and live as a transitional phase, but we do not like the intention of our music producers, which becomes more and more clear – a creation whose qualities can not replace traditional heritage becomes preferred. In these new “folk” songs we often find empty, incomplete thoughts, weak and unclear utterance, anach- ronisms and poor, unskilfully adjusted melody to the words of the same kind, in a word – the kitsch, which is foisted as our folk music, capable to thrill faded feelings of petit-bourgeois (Dević 1964: 177). Golemović has an axiologically relativistic attitude, because the function of entertaining folk song is universal:

The city creates newly composed folk music on the basis of its traditional urban song (varoška), so it would be logical that newly-composed folk song follows and fits into its development, but usually it is not the case. Not even in the songs that nominally go back to the roots, because the root is something else – a sort of folkloristic ideal whose existence is questionable, but to which numerous proponents of purism in folk music refer (Golemović 1997: 277). Another important question was that of musical taste, as related to this phenomenon in socialist Yugoslavia (Kos 1972). Except the two publications by Dević and Golemović, extremely important are the proceedings of the Association of the Societies of Yugoslav Folklorists (Savez udruženja folklorista Jugoslavije – SUFJ), especially the ones after the congress held in 1990 on Plitvice Lakes in Croatia (texts by N. Ceribašić, R. Durić, J. Gligorijević, A. Gojković, S. Jerkov, Z. Marjanović, V. Matijaševiḱ, V. Milin, A. Miljuš, I. Mimica, V. Minić, M. Morina Jakupović, R. Muniši, Lj. Pešikan Ljuštanović, Š. Plana, M. Povrzanov- ić, I. Prica, F. Popova, T. Sazdov, Đ. Smokvarski, E. Šeleva, M. Terseglav – cf. Đurić 1990). All those short texts started from various humanistic disciplines of folkloristic provenance and their aim was to contribute to the analysis of musical, linguistic, social and aesthetic aspects of the newly-composed music genre (in the first place). For urban folk music of the socialist period this book is very important, because the authors are from different generations and from all six former Yugoslav republics and two provinces, and soon after its publication the breakdown of the federation began. Sadly, these extreme political circumstances

[email protected] 44 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević led to the politicisation of the newly-composed folk music genre as an artistically invaluable escapism from the reality of war and isolation, despite leading to the insiders’ comparisons with similar genres in neighbouring countries. Urban folk music at the end of the twentieth century At the end of the twentieth century there appeared a very influential (but sometimes not explicative enough) critique of the newly composed music genre in Serbia (interestingly, not in other countries – e.g. Croatia or Bosnia– Herzegovina, where the genre has been also produced and massively consumed) from non-ethnomusicologists (which also provoked responses). The majority of topics were dealing with political and nationalistic background of the industry of current newly-composed folk music, the relationship between commerciality and quality, with visual (iconographic and video) presentations in music videos and the messages in lyrics (Čolović 2000; Dragićević Šešić 1994; Kronja 2001). The book by Ljerka Vidić Rassmusen (2002) is remarkable as the most comprehensive ethnomusicological writing about the genre of newly-composed folk music in Yugoslavia. Very soon, several foreign researchers interested in the region of the Balkans joined in (for instance, Archer 2009; Baker 2007; Gordy 1999). At the same time, the material about the discourse of urban folk music became very rich and the phenomenon with its subgenres became massive and modernized. This “third wave” of scientific production was very useful for raising the awareness of the importance of urban folk music in the contemporary society. Newly- composed folk music (with synonyms turbofolk; later on ethno-pop – which has different meaning in various contexts, cf. Medić 2014) is the theme of numerous contributions in the 2000s, whose central problems are kitsch, gender roles, violence, recent war, Serbian state politics in the 1990s, the concept of the Balkans, particular “star” singers, in 2010s – post-Yugoslav memories (except aforementioned writings, see ethnomusicological articles: Hofman 2011; Nenić 2009). The relation rural–urban is not treated in a new way, which is actually in accordance with the discourse of globalisation of the time. Urban folk music at popular music market in Serbia But how did all of this actually co-exist in regular popular music market in Ser- bia? Urban folk music before World War II was on the records and in the radio program always labeled as “folk music” (occasionally the labels “Serbo- Croatian” or “Serbian” were added). The only different marker was “Gypsy”, which had a special marketing value for the fans (in terms of authenticity and virtuosity), but at the same time it was criticized (as is today). Since the interwar period a strong influence of jazz music began to be felt – professional musicians had folk, jazz, classical music on their repertoire. At that time, the influences

[email protected] Urban folk music and cultural influences: Labels for narodna muzika 45 which were criticized were Romani (meaning East, but also nomadic), Spanish (South), Hungarian (North), a pressure to modernize (i.e. West); furthermore, the context of tavern (kafana) performance was very disputable. It can be said that in this phase there were explicit local musical characteristics (as in other countries), i.e. that urban folk music was a combination of simplified achievements of Western romantic art music with ethnic/national folk heritage. To summarize musical analysis (it is known that lyrics were usually about love, but in some cases also patriotic): the tunes were cantabile and wave-like, with a large melodic range (up to the interval of the tenth), double or triple bar measures, simple rhythm (sometimes parlando rubato or aksak). Harmonies were simple as well – non-dense chord progression (tonic, subdominant, dominant sphere), diatonic modulations in the closely related keys, sometimes with mutations. Accompani- ment was simple, but its texture depended on the abilities of the pianist or accor- dionist, or the orchestra (most prominent are tamburitza /playing with pluck/ and string /playing with bow/ orchestras).1 After World War II, previous urban folk music continued to be adapted for broadcasting and a huge role in that process was played by the violinist and the leader of the Folk Radio Orchestra – Vlastimir Pavlović Carevac. His role was to “purify” folk music from foreign influences: he was looking for tunes and singers from the domain of “real folk” as a material for stylisation, he insisted on a clear marking of the geographical origin, on respecting the meaning and accen- tuation of the lyrics, and finally he was adjusting soloists to the orchestra (as an institutional standard of folk sound) in order to make this music accessible to the largest audience possible. After the War a division of repertoires according to the republics, provinces and regions which had their own melos (music style) became very important, which could be the topic of a separate research.2 After the War, there was also a policy at Radio Belgrade that classical composers, with academic knowledge, should make orchestrated covers of folk tunes (as oppositions to “improvisations” – tavern songs) and that unsuccessful experiment in an attempt to cultivate and popularize “real folk music” in the audience’s opinion actually just opened demand for non-elitist but modern folk music expression (more about these arrangements in: Hercigonja 1972: 240–244; Milin 1987).3 In the 1960s and 1970s there were numerous performers, and a much bigger number of active songwriters than before; also, there appeared numerous personal styles of performance and regional subgenres, and music market was liberalized in comparison to the past. Popular music of Western origins gained an important status, known by the name zabavna muzika (“entertaining music”). Many singers who are nowadays popular as “good old singers” and many pati- nated hits which are today part of the nostalgic “old urban music” were established in these decades – e.g. the singer Predrag Cune Gojković, the song by

[email protected] 46 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević

Petar Tanasijević “Jutros mi je ruža procvetala” (This Morning the Rose Bloomed for Me) etc. An important feature was that the accordion started to suppress string and tamburitza orchestras and that newly-composed folk music became known as a separate genre. Related to the influences and contacts, it must be said that socialist Yugoslavia was open to the West and to the East during the Cold War; and, with respect to the mass influences – that television entered Yugoslav households.4 Because newly composed folk music was marked as a peasant phenomenon, in the 1970s starogradska muzika (“old urban music”) emerged in response to it. Its aim was to revitalize the urban folk music which was popular before World War II, which was partly problematic because of its connection to the monarchistic society. Until the present day, it has consistently developed as a nostalgic genre (and commodified, as newly-composed folk music). Except for taking and imitating musical characteristic of urban folk music before World War II, this genre is specific by cadences – often the last tone in the melody is the third of the major tonic. From the newly-composed folk music genre it is differenced by an acoustic instrumentarium, insisting on non-loud performances in taverns and by a non-acceptance of contemporary trends from global popular music (cf. Dumnić 2016).5 In this very concise overview, I will point to two important moments in the mainstream of newly composed folk music genre (the alternative in this genre can be a separate topic) in the 1980s. The first is a Yugoslav “product”, a singer with strong Western music influences – Lepa Brena with her band Slatki greh (Sweet Sin), and another is the Easternized local music product – the group Južni vetar (Southern Wind) with a variety of soloists. They were not conflicted at the market, and they are chosen here to sketch the diversity of the scene. Lepa Brena was even singing “entertaining music” and rock, which were clearly connected to the West. It should be emphasized that electronic instruments (synthesisers at the first place, electric guitar and bas-guitar) and drum battery, as well as loud sound systems, were regular parts of folk music ensembles; and music video became immanently important (more about music video in Yugoslav music: Medić forthcoming).6 The other mentioned group actually came from the aforementioned alternative scene and signed a contract with at that time small (and “obscure”) publisher – Diskos.7 In the 1990s, the confederal state began to split into nation states, but this was a fruitful decade for ebullition of urban folk music. What is interesting is that when newly-composed folk music derived into hybrid turbofolk and was related to its urban occurrence, the response emerged – a revival of rural folk music. Actually, the term turbofolk coined in the late 1980s is accepted in the literature about the urban folk music in the 1990s in Serbia, yet it is highly prob-

[email protected] Urban folk music and cultural influences: Labels for narodna muzika 47 lematic – in terms of emic interpretation and with a serious question: where is the boundary between these genres, except in political interpretations by the critics and scholars who do not actually listen to that music, when we actually have the same performers, a lively regional scene, and the influence of various electronic genres as in the previous decades? And the second thing is: after this overview, can we actually speak mostly about chronology, and how we can approach the tracking of a structural development when influences are emerging too strong and fast in recent years/decades? It can be said that the most prominent performer from that period is Svetlana Veličković/Ražnatović Ceca.8 In the first half of the twentieth century, record labels which published urban folk music were connected to big foreign gramophone record companies – Columbia, Pathé, His Master’s Voice, Odeon etc. Also, there was Yugoslav company based in Zagreb, Edison Bell Penkala (from 1924), as well as El- ektroton from Ljubljana (established in 1933). After World War II, domestic companies greatly influenced the audience – Jugoton was in Zagreb (in 1947) and, by the end of the century it became Croatia Records (in 1990). Much of folk music editions were published in Serbia and Bosnia–Herzegovina. Belgrade got Production of Gramophone Records of the Radio-Television of Belgrade/Serbia (from 1959) and Jugodisk (from 1968); Sarajevo had Diskoton (from 1974). Very productive for kitschy (as it was qualified at the time) newly-composed folk music from 1962 was Diskos from a small city in Central Serbia (Aleksan- drovac). From the 1990s, private publishers of audio cassettes and compact discs appeared all over the country (e.g. in Serbia Komuna, City Records), but the most important publishing activity was – music piracy. Concluding remarks Before World War II, urban folk music, as a traditional practice, was a starting point for a later segregation of popular folk genres into “newly-composed folk” and “old urban” music. The first one was nominally progressive, designed for wider audiences, based on rural musical motifs but modernized by instrumentation and production. The second one was developed around 1970s as a response to this phenomenon, and it was purposely regressive, evoking pre-World War II urban folk music by particular repertoires and acoustic performances. Ever since they emerged on popular music market they have had a dynamic relation. Their qualitative opposition is important, based not only on the attitudes on “authentic” folk music, but also in the use of influences from the West. What characterized all cosmopolitan music practices in the Balkan countries, i.e. regional popular music, at the beginning of the twentieth century is a mixture of Central European musical influences (mostly in harmonisation, form and instrumentarium) with Ottoman ones (the most distinguished are scales with the augmented second)

[email protected] 48 Marija Dumnić Vilotijević with the local song repertoire of semi-rural origin. In the case of Serbia, it is not only about received influences, but also about influences deriving from it. Name- ly, the newly composed folk music genre was very influential during the com- munist period in Romania and Bulgaria, so a new music genre (manele and chal- ga) was recorded, imitating it, while cherishing the same related phenomena, such as dance and visual symbols. It may be concluded that urban folk music during the twentieth century in Serbia was a reflection of political struggle between dependance from surrounding empires, Serbian monarchism, Yugoslav socialism dedicated to finding balance between Western capitalism and Soviet communism (with a stronger input of the first mentioned in popular music) and finally growth of nationalisms in former Yugoslav republics, all of those mirror- ing dynamic cultural changes and social trends that were outcomes of industrialization and mass media development. Finally, urban folk music was based upon and materialized with influences including local musical and poetical folklore, Ottoman music legacy and Western global popular music.

1 As an illustration, here is the recording of a prominent (Romani) singer Sofka Nikolić singing the song “Ja nabacih udicu” (I Threw the Hook) with the accompaniment of “Gypsy chapel”, i.e. the family string orchestra of her husband Paja Nikolić: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2j4MtRxIwnU. Accessed: 22 January 2018. 2 As an illustration of the “golden era” of urban folk music in the opinion of many musicians, here is the recording of the highly acclaimed singer Danica Obrenić accompanied by Carevac’s orchestra interpreting a song from Vranje “Magla padnala v dolina” (Fog Is in a Valley): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7Fpn1BxlTk. Accessed: 22 January 2018. 3 For example, we can compare two recordings of the song “Savila se bela loza vinova” (White grape-vine buskled) from Vojvodina: here is performance of folk duet Živka Mi- lošević and Slavka Aleksić with the accompaniment of the Folk orchestra of Carevac: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rpcly-7o74I. Accessed: 22 January 2018. And here is cover for choir in artistic style by composer Ljubomir Bošnjaković: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_UTYdsb2a0U (00:00–00:49). Accessed: 22 January 2018. 4 Аs an illustration of the fast changes may serve the video of the highly popular singer Silvana Armenulić singing live in a TV show (in 1971) the song “Rane moje” (My Wounds), lyrics and music by Aksentije Šoškić: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBNaVN_Hz9o. Accessed: 22 January 2018. 5 A typical example is “Kad čujem tambure” (When I Hear Tamburitzas), by unknown songwriter), performed by Sextet Skadarlija: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Br9Hb- ue4Uk. Accessed: 22 January 2018. 6 See the music video “Jugoslovenka” (Yugoslav Girl), lyrics: Miloš Mandić, music: Ma- rija Ćajić, vocals: Lepa Brena, Alen Islamović, Vlado Kalember, Daniel, from the 1989 movie directed by Stanko Crnobrnja “Hajde da se volimo 2” (Let’s Fall in Love 2): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsKn5KX6XnU. Accessed: 22 January 2018.

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7 An example may be a popular song “Ej, otkad sam se rodio” (Hey, since I Was Born), performed by Sinan Sakić at a concert in Belgrade in 1987, lyrics and music by Miodrag Ilić: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aY4HnpxXCnQ. Accessed: 22 January 2018. 8 See the official music video from 1994 for the song “Šta je to u tvojim venama” (What Is in Your Veins), lyrics: Marina Tucaković, music: Aleksandar Radulović Futa, performance: Ceca: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rlyhsl6U1OM. Accessed: 22 January 2018.

Acknowledgements This paper is a result of the projects City Sonic Ecology: Urban Soundscapes of Bern, Ljubljana and Belgrade, funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation within its SCOPES program; and Serbian Musical Identities within Local and Global Frameworks: Traditions, Changes, Challenges (No. 177004), financed by the Ministry of Education, Science, and Technical Development of the Re- public of Serbia. Reference list Bibliography Archer, R. 2009. “Paint Me Black and Gold and Put Me in the Frame”: Turbofolk and Balkanist Discourse in (Post) Yugoslav Cultural Space. MA. Central European Uni- versity, Budapest. Baker, C. 2007. The Concept of Turbofolk in Croatia: Inclusion/Exclusion of National Musical Identity. In C. Baker, C. Gerry, B. Madaj, L. Mellish, J. Nahodilová Eds. Na- tion in Formation: Inclusion and Exclusion in Central and Eastern Europe. London: SSEES Occasional Papers: 139–158. Čolović, I. 2000. Divlja književnost: Etnolingvističko proučavanje paraliterature. Beo- grad: Biblioteka XX vek. Dević, D. 1964. Naša narodna muzika na gramofonskim pločama. In Rad 10. kongresa SUFJ održan na Cetinju 25–29.9.1963. Cetinje: Savez udruženja folklorista Jugo- slavije: 275–279. Dragićević Šešić, M. 1994. Neofolk kultura: Publika i njene zvezde. Sremski Karlovci: Izdavačka knjižarnica Zorana Stojanovića. Dumnić, M. – 2013. The Creation of Folk Music Program on Radio Belgrade before World War Two: Editorial Policies and Performing Ensembles. Muzikologija/Musicology 14: 9–29. 2016. Istorijski aspekti i savremene prakse izvođenja starogradske muzike u Beogradu. PhD. Faculty of Music, Belgrade. Đorđević, V. – 1926. Narodna pevanka. Beograd: Narodna samouprava. 1931. Srpske narodne melodije: Predratna Srbija. Beograd: Srpska kraljevska akademija.

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Đurić, T. Ed. Rad 37. kongresa Saveza udruženja folklorista Jugoslavije – Plitvička jezera 1990. Zagreb: SUFJ – Društvo folklorista Hrvatske. Fabbri, F. 1981. A Theory of Musical Genres: Two Applications. http://www.tagg.org/xp- dfs/ffabbri81a.pdf. Accessed: 22 January 2016. Golemović, D. 1997. Da li je novokomponovana narodna muzika zaista narodna? In D. Golemović Ed. Etnomuzikološki ogledi. Beograd: Biblioteka XX vek: 175–183. Gordy, E. 1999. The Culture of Power in Serbia: Nationalism and the Destruction of Al- ternatives. University Park: Pensilvania State University Press. Hercigonja, N. 1972. O problemima “narodne muzike” jugoslovenskih radio-stanica. In N. Hercigonja Ed. Napisi o muzici. Beograd: Umetnička akademija u Beogradu: 239– 259. Hofman, A. 2011. Staging Socialist Femininity: Gender Politics and Folklore Perfor- mance in Serbia. Leiden – Boston: Brill. Kos, K. 1972. New Dimensions in Folk Music: A Contribution to the Study of Musical Tastes in Contemporary Yugoslav Society. International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music 3 (1): 61–73. Kronja, I. 2001. Smrtonosni sjaj: Masovna psihologija i estetika turbo-folka. Beograd: Tehnokratia. Manuel, P. 1988. Popular Music of the Non-Western World: An Introductory Survey. New York – Oxford: Oxford University Press. Marković, M. 2010. Violina u narodnoj muzici Srbije. PhD. Faculty of Music, Belgrade. Medić, I. – 2014. Arhai’s Balkan Folktronica: Serbian Ethno Music Reimagined for British Market. Muzikologija/Musicology 16: 105–127. Forthcoming. The Aesthetics of Music Videos in Yugoslav Rock Music. In D. Š. Beard and Lj. V. Rasmussen Eds. Made in Yugoslavia: Studies in Popular Music. New York – London: Routledge. Milin, M. 1987. Primena folklora u srpskoj muzici posle Drugog svetskog rata. In Folklor i njegova umetnička transpozicija. Beograd: Fakultet muzičke umetnosti: 205–218. Milošević, V. 1964. Sevdalinka. Banja Luka: Muzej Bosanske Krajine. Nenić, I. 2009. Roze kiborzi i /de/centrirane ideološke mašine: Preobražaji muzičke kulture (turbo)folka. Genero: Časopis za feminističku teoriju i studije kulture 13: 63-80. Nettl, B. 1972. Persian Popular Music in 1969. Ethnomusicology 16 (2): 218–239. Vasiljević, M. 1960. Narodne melodije leskovačkog kraja. Beograd: Srpska akademija nauka – Muzikološki institut, Naučno delo. Vidić Rassmusen, Lj. 2002. Newly Composed Folk Music of Yugoslavia, London – New York: Routledge.

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Popular song and literary scholarship: Interactions between criticism and artistic creation

Cláudia Neiva de Matos Universidade Federal Fluminense, Pós-graduação em Estudos de Literatura, Niterói, Brazil [email protected] Brazilian popular song and literature have long been intertwined. The nineteenth- century modinhas were often created by setting written poems to music and in the radio era romantic songs often had literary style lyrics. Since bossa nova and tropicalismo, an increasing number of artists, from Vinícius de Moraes to Ar- naldo Antunes, have composed poems as well as lyrics. Besides, popular music began to be given more space and relevance as a subject of academic research from the 1980s onwards, a new kind of connection has arisen, linking scholars and popular songwriting: professors and critics of the literary and linguistic fields, such as José Miguel Wisnik and Luiz Tatit, are also renowned songwriters and singers. They never or seldom write poetry, but they produce important books and articles about popular song. This paper will approach the artistic and critical production of those and other “mastersingers”, in order to discuss the following working hypothesis: when creating and performing songs get together with researching and analysing them, both art and science are affected; art offers new aesthetic proposals and forms; academic and critical work develop new perceptions and perspectives, with remarkable results to the analytical and theoretical approach to popular song.

Keywords: analysis of popular song, literary scholarship and popular song, criticism and creation, poetry and song, academic work and popular song

In Brazil, as in many other countries, “men of letters”, writers and literary critics were the first intellectuals to get interested in popular song. At a time when all socially prestigious culture had roots and circulated in the written field, writers, researchers and thinkers connected with literary circles appreciated and investigated what they called “folklore” or “oral literature”. This included traditional

[email protected] 52 Cláudia Neiva de Matos narratives and songs, sung and chanted texts that were produced and transmitted orally. Brazilian critic and historian Silvio Romero is a good example of that fascination of the bookish culture with oral poetry and oral tales. In 1888, he published the first great History of Brazilian Literature, as well as his Studies of Brazilian Popular Poetry, the first substantial work dedicated to Brazilian traditional oral art. He gathered and published the lyrics of numerous traditional songs. However, since he did not know music and was not able to write down the melodies, he produced limited and partial documents and comments. A few decades later, a great step forward was taken with the works of Mário de Andrade ̶ poet, novelist, critic, researcher, leader and ideologist of Brazilian Modernism. Andrade had studied and taught classical piano. The combination of knowledge and professional activity in both fields of literature and music allowed him to make extraordinary progress in recording (by noting) lyrics and music of Brazilian folk songs, and also in producing multifaceted analyses of this material. However, he did not extend his interest to popular commercial mass music, despite having witnessed the great expansion of the recording and radio industry in the first half of the twentieth century. Until the 1950s in Brazil, although popular music mainly spread by radio, records and movies quickly became extremely significant in general culture, it did not give rise to elaborate studies. Journalists, chroniclers, and more or less dilettante connoisseurs wrote about it, generally with values and concepts that dated back to a nineteenth century folkloristic ideology: authenticity, nationality, purity etc. It was only in the 1960s that this scene began to change. And the change was driven by an important transformation in the field of Brazilian popular music itself. Bossa nova burst on the scene and flourished in the late 1950s. The tropicalista movement, which emerged in the mid-1960s, was the next step in that cycle of intense innovation. In 1968, poet, critic and translator Augusto de Campos, a warlike exponent of the concrete poetry avant-garde, greeted and praised bossa nova and tropicalismo in his collection of essays O balanço da bossa (The Swing of Bossa), which he edited with texts of his own and texts written by some avant-garde scholarly musicians. An enlarged edition, with new articles, was released in 1974. Relying on his deep knowledge of both literature and music, his sharp analytical insight, combative spirit, and commitment to the art of invention, Campos opposed the aesthetic values of what he called “tradinationalism”. And he chose João Gilber- to and Caetano Veloso as the two great artificers of the new musicality, under- scoring in their art the careful creativity and the constructive conscience that opposed the folkloric idea of a spontaneous and natural art.

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I believe that, if Campos and his colleagues were able to appreciate the strangeness caused by the novelty of those songs, it was not just because they had more enlightened and modern critical ears. It was also because their ears were inwardly trained by their own creative activities ̶ Campos in literature and the others in music. These connections between musical and literary culture, and also between thought and creation, contributed to open a rich dialogue between two fields of culture and language: popular music artists and well-read intellectuals, popular culture and high culture, creation and criticism. In the following decade, this dialogue expanded into other sectors of Brazil- ian popular music, exploring its past and its history, and gaining more and more space in several academic fields. Writers, musicologists, sociologists, anthropol- ogists and historians joined independent researchers in the production of longer and more elaborate research outputs. The first remarkable published works included several pieces from the literary academic field, such as Música popular e moderna poesia brasileira (Brazilian Popular Music and Modern Poetry), prepared by Affonso Romano de Sant’Anna in 1976. In 2007, historian Marcos Napolitano stated that the area of literature set the initial “tone” of the academic approaches to popular music, but this contribution later declined, being surpassed, among others, by anthropology and history. However, the literature continued to produce crucial perspectives and critical frameworks for the understanding of song languages in Brazil. It seems to me that the main feature of this production was the commitment of some scholars to the particular aesthetic analysis of songs, resulting in critical works with an acute and multidimensional analytical view. This viewpoint, or rather this critical listening, has been rather scarce in other fields, which have favored the social and historical approach and the contextual studies; or, in the case of musicologists, have focused on the single musical dimension of the repertoires. The analytical approaches that sought to find in songs the aesthetic and semantic dynamics of the interaction among words, melody and voice are explicitly or implicitly associated, especially in the humanities field, with what Mário de Andrade and Augusto de Campos had proposed. At first glance, Andrade and Campos would be in opposite fields regarding the ideology of their musical taste, which determined the repertoires each one of them selected to investigate. Andrade’s esteem for folklore is rejected by Cam- pos, who celebrates instead the music of the mass industry. However, they have many things in common. They were both avant-garde poets, who led far- reaching aesthetic movements – the modernism of 1922 and the concretism of 1950 ̶ 1960. In addition to being creators and critics of literary art, they were both well-read connoisseurs of classical music, engaged in perceiving and pro-

[email protected] 54 Cláudia Neiva de Matos moting its connections with popular, folk or commercial music. Last but not least ̶ they were both from São Paulo. The new Brazilian popular music of the 1960s and 1970s came mainly from the Rio de Janeiro ̶ Bahia axis. But the critical reflection on its novelty passed mainly through São Paulo. And this seems to have contributed to the fact that, in the following years, São Paulo also came to bring forth an original and meaningful output of popular song. To give an idea on how these networks were made, I will use the examples of two songwriters and singers from São Paulo whose careers were consolidated in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries: Luiz Tatit and José Miguel Wisnik. They are both linked with the so-called Vanguarda Paulista (São Paulo Vanguard), which was, after the 1960s, the first “movement” to renovate popular music in Brazil. This label encompasses very different artists, who rocked the cultural and musical scene of São Paulo in the 1980s. Alongside Arrigo Barnabé and Itamar Assunção, one of the most outstanding names in this movement was the Rumo Band, led by Luiz Tatit. And José Miguel Wisnik, working in collaboration with some Vanguarda Paulista’s members, developed a demanding and investigative creativity as songwriter. In addition to being acknowledged songwriters, Tatit and Wisnik are also professors at the University of São Paulo: Wisnik in Literature and Tatit in Se- miotics and Linguistics. Among other Paulistas and Paulistanos, they followed the route opened by Mário de Andrade and updated by Augusto de Campos in the study of popular song. Like Andrade and Campos, both were trained in two areas, music and literature or linguistics. Moreover, they are instrumentalists ̶ Tatit plays the guitar and Wisnik plays the piano; and they compose and sing. Tatit studied some classical music at the Arts Department of the São Paulo University, where he was also studying linguistics. But for him the art of the popular song opposes classical music, and also opposes instrumental music in general. He even states that his goal at the beginning of his musical activity was “to distinguish the object-song from [instrumental] music” (Ferrari 2016: 27). And he tells that he became aware of this distinction in the early career of the Rumo band, “which in fact was created practically to explain this” (Ferrari 2016: 27). The group used to perform their show and then discuss it with the audience, taking on and exploring ideas and concerns of critical and theoretical scope. Thus, from the beginning, the combination of song-science and song-art has been clearly and rationally organized, in a way that is nevertheless singular, as Tatit himself would acknowledge: “My problem is how to explain creation, and artists usually don’t aim at that” (Ferrari 2016: 26). In the 1980s the conjugation of artist and theorist roles was really uncommon in the field of popular music. Yet, in the field of literature, it was an old,

[email protected] Popular song and literary scholarship 55 almost customary practice. Poets often wrote about poetry, and generally did that very well, as the cases of Mário de Andrade and Augusto de Campos demonstrate. These poets showed the way, in which the desire to innovate was coupled with the desire for an in-depth knowledge; and that knowledge turned into creation. According to Tatit, with Balanço da bossa, “the first collection of texts that took the commercial song as an object of analysis” (Barile 2008). Campos becomes the first important figure to carry out the connection among music, poetry and song, processed in a field where strands of scholarly and popular culture get together. Moreover, he points to the possibility of “associating creation with systematic reflection on this universe” (Barile 2008). These are the words of Luiz Tatit, commenting on the impact that Campos’s book had on his generation. Despite its commitment to modernizing transformation, the Rumo Band began by “returning to the ancestors”. According to Tatin, they began by “rehearsing and at the same time studying the great sambas of the radio era, specifically from the 1920s and 1930s” (Ferrary 2016: 27). This traditional samba offers the basic features of the song production model with which Tatit would work both as an artist and scholar. This popular genre deeply rooted in vocality, oral culture and everyday talk is a perfect field to explore the idea that the principle of song language is the communicative use of the voice itself, the vocal enunciation, which performs the verbal and the rhythmic-melodic contents at once. As a professor, semioticist and writer, Tatit elaborates his song theory gradually, pointing out, in the styles ̶ he says “dictions” ̶ of different songwriters, the organic character of the sung language. This organicity comes from its connection with the spoken language. Song originates in speech, says Tatit, revers- ing in a sense and somehow reaffirming the idea of Rousseau, for whom the origin of speech is song, intoned poetic language (Essay on the Origin of Lan- guages). In this perspective, lyrics and melody are already, at least potentially, together and intertwined in the vocal source of song. This idea is quite consistent with Tatit’s work as a songmaker in his early records. As he considers that words and music are already joined by/in the talking voice, he creates together both lyrics and music. He is the most prolific author in Rumo’s albums and produces almost always without a partner. Nor does he have partners in his songs on Felicidade (Happiness), his first solo CD. In José Miguel Wisnik’s work, we find a different way of bringing together the various components of a song. The song seems to result mainly from a fortu- nate connection between poetic and musical forms, forms that could refer, if taken separately, to formally educated poetry and music, elaborated in the context of written culture. However, in his authorial repertoire, the signs and powers of poetry and music are perfectly integrated, able to sound and produce meaning

[email protected] 56 Cláudia Neiva de Matos together. This could remind us of a topic that appears here and there in his songs, and inspires the framework of his latest album: a double CD named Indivisible. Compositions coauthored with other songwriters prevail in Wisnik’s output. Moreover, several of his songs result from the musicalization of poems written by poets such as Paulo Leminski, Carlos Drummond, Fernando Pessoa, Gregório de Matos and Antonio Cícero. In addition, in his own lyrics or in his coauthor’s lyrics, there are procedures found typically in literary language, such as plays of verbal sounds, alliterations, assonances, inner rhymes, sophisticated metaphors and allegorical suggestions. In all of these, he makes wide use of a sensibility educated by his profound experience in practicing both instrumental music and literary close reading. In a 2006 interview, he said:

I had an Uspian education [referring to Universidade de Sao Paulo] which is mainly linked to the accuracy of text analysis. This is what defines me, the Uspian training. This for me was combined with a non-academic and simultaneous education from popular music and tropicália. My artistic and critical work stems from this combination (Avelar 2006). In short, Wisnik and Tatit deal with song language as experts in both making and knowing how to make. And, as they teach, they help other song lovers and students to learn and to deal with songs. This is manifest in their artistic and scholarly productions, and also clear in many of their interviews and testimonials. They did a lot of work together, like the DVD show O fim da canção (The End of the Song), although they only co-wrote about half a dozen songs, all of high quality. They both wrote excellent articles and essays on socio-historical and cultural aspects of songs, such as Tatit’s O século da canção (The Song Century) and Wisnik’s O minuto e o milênio (The Minute and the Millennium). But I believe that what best distinguishes the value of their works are the approaches centered on the production and reception processes of song as an aesthetic, sensorial object, articulating verb, rhythm-melody and voice. This multifaceted perspective does not fail to refer to the listenings and readings of Andrade and Campos. And Tatit, as we have already seen, achieved substantial theoretical and methodological advances in this field, based on the semiotic apparatus to elaborate tools suitable for the analysis of song. Wisnik often resorts to Tatit’s theoretical tools in his own analyses. But he is also very concerned about the cultural issues as a whole, and the place and role of song in the Brazilian culture. This raises questions of historical and cultural belonging, and there we find the echoes of Mário de Andrade’s ideas – Andrade having been the thematic axis of Wisnik’s postgraduate theses.

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So, Tatit and Wisnik are two closely related “singing masters” (as says the title of the first song that they made and recorded together), two songmakers (cancionistas, a term created by Luiz Tatit which found use in the academical discourse about popular music) educated at the São Paulo University. Even so, their musical and critical references do not align in a simple way. Wisnik’s inspi- rations articulate Mário de Andrade and Tropicália, while those of Tatit join samba with Augusto de Campos, de soul of São Paulo. But for both of them, beyond intellectual and academical background, the deeper sources of ideas and perceptions on song seem to be found in the songs themselves. It was the song itself that, to their attentive ears, offered the keys or the ways that a committed and passionate scholar should take to study, understand and explain some of the popular song beautiful mysteries. The song as a fully artistic language, having its own specific characteristics; and also the song as a great field of dialogue and reflection on Brazil and Brazilians. Wisnik’s and Tatit’s works as artists and scholars consolidate and represent a broader process, involving other actors that came about both in the songwriting world and the academic world. They carry on a path marked out by bossa nova, a musical period when Brazilian popular song creation really began to relate to its past while at the same time it stepped out and beyond it. Walter Garcia writes that, with bossa nova, the middle class built a tradition within Brazilian popular song. In other words, the middle class was incorporated into the world of song as an active and integrated agent. This made the sense of historicity related to popular music stronger and more complex, leaving aside a certain mythology of song and song making, coming from folkloric mind. From bossa nova to Vanguarda Paulista, a new vision and a new practice of the Brazil- ian song was developed, a different way for this song to be perceived and elaborated. Such a feature can be characterized as a loss or overcoming of ingenuous- ness regarding song creation. In the poetics of various types of songs, in different languages and traditions, the act of creating and performing songs was often seen as the result of a mysterious gift or a diffused inspiration, generated and processed in a profound and somewhat secret way, as if the song language would necessarily bring the stamp and the energy of a source at once divine and natural. The idea of a natural origin and gestation of the arts of the sung word goes through its primitive ritualistic uses and also the mythology ̶ or ideology ̶ of traditional genres such as samba, always presented as a “gift”, a divine inspiration. Hence the overlap between the notions of creating and singing songs, between authorship and interpretation, as if lyrics and melody ̶ these objects made from eminently cultural signs and codes ̶ once gathered and incarnated in voice,

[email protected] 58 Cláudia Neiva de Matos were invested with the natural and authentic virtues that are attributed to the voice ̶ this ability inseparable from the movements of one’s body and soul. Such an “innocent” conception of artistic action was in force in the field of popular song for a long time, endorsed even by journalistic chronicles, associated with values such as authenticity, tradition, and organic genius. It was also supported by the fact that, in Brazil, among other forms of artistic expression, such as literature, painting and theater, song is the one that most successfully affirmed itself as a properly “popular” art. From bossa nova onwards there is a decline of this idea of a “natural” song, born out of mere inspiration. On the other hand, the creative and critical agents of Brazilian popular song gained in self-knowledge and awareness of the songwriting art. Many factors contributed to this process: the sophisticated aesthetics of bossa nova and tropicalismo; the growing activity of artists with a higher musical education, able to master complex languages and techniques, deeply involved in written culture, coming from wealthier classes, engaged in political and cultural proposals. One can extend to Luiz Tatit what Francisco Bosco (another exponent of song criticism with a literary background and also a lyricist) said of Wisnik: “In his career, Wisnik has built a close relation between song and thought, which to a great extent defines it” (Bosco 2013: 2). Just as there are many thinker-poets and writers who are also literary critics, they explore the field of song as scholars and creators. Their activity as professors and researchers in the area of literature and language sciences is marked by their experience as songwriters. On the other hand, as songwriters, they make use of an ear, a know-how and even a taste ̶ all of these influenced by academic their education and culture. Many great poets have also been great poetry and art critics. Also in the musicology circles, it is very common to find good and passionate musicians. But Wisnik and Tatit go a bit further in their multiple and cohesive ways: they are songwriters, they deal with poetics and music. Like their fellow São Paulo’ citizens Mário de Andrade and Augusto de Campos, they have reached a high level of well-read culture, and they are comfortable both among books and records. Moreover, they teach! And they sing! They are, as says the title of a song they made together, “Mastersingers”. And, with their largely elaborate education and professional activity, both in their art and their science, they show how rich productive the bringing together of theory and art can be. Acknowledgements I am grateful to CNPq (National Council for Scientific and Technological Development) for the financial support awarded to this research.

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References Avelar, I. 2006. Entrevista exclusiva: O biscoito fino e a massa. http://www.idelberave- lar.com/archives/2006/05/jose_miguel_wisnik_entrevista_exclusiva.php. Accessed: 4 March 2010. Barile, J. P. 2008. A volta do mestre cantor. O Tempo. http://www.luiztatit.com.br/_img/ _imprensa/20080206.jpg. Accessed : 5 January 2017. Bosco, F. 2013. Filocanção. O Globo 22 May. Rio de Janeiro. Campos, A. 1974. Balanço da bossa e outras bossas. São Paulo: Perspectiva. Ferrari, M. 2016. A forma exata da canção. Revista Pesquisa, August: 24 ̶29. http://revistapesquisa.fapesp.br/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/024-029_Entrevista- Tatit_246.pdf. Accessed: 20 February 2017. Napolitano, M. 2007. História e música popular: Um mapa de leituras e questões. Revista de História 157: 153 ̶ 171. Sant’Anna, A. R. 1978. Música popular e moderna poesia brasileira. Petrópolis: Vozes.

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Education and popular music

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Women who rock: The memoir project

Donna S. Parsons University of Iowa, School of Music, Iowa City, Iowa, United States of America “Issues in Popular Music: Women Who Rock” is an undergraduate honors course that focuses on the cultural narrative constructed by female musicians working in popular music from the 1920s to the present day. Students examine the impact these women and their music have had on issues involving civil rights, feminism, the counter culture, social injustices and war. With modules covering the development of various styles and genres, students’ exploration cuts across cultures and ethnicity as they analyze the rise and fall of girl groups, the dynamics of mixed gender groups, and the social lyricism of various songwriters. Wanting to design an open-ended research project that allowed students to expand their musical knowledge, I created the memoir project. During the past decade popular musicians have turned increasingly to the memoir to set the record straight on songs, recording sessions, band disputes, tours, the music industry and their personal life. This essay addresses how I capitalized on these primary sources as a means to develop students’ research skills and their ability to present their ideas in various modalities. I explain how presenting their ideas in different formats gives them the tools to write a more sophisticated research essay.

Keywords: female artists, memoir, undergraduate research, undergraduate presentations, women in music

Introduction During the summer of 2016, the British Library featured an exhibition that explored the history of British punk music. As part of the showcase, I purchased a ticket to hear a talk by Jon Savage, who has written extensively on the topic, and Viv Albertine, lead guitarist for the Slits. In 2014, Albertine had published Clothes Clothes Clothes Music Music Music Boys Boys Boys. Her memoir made for fascinating reading as she talked about her friendship with members of the Clash and the Sex Pistols, the obstacles she encountered as a musician, and her drive to realize her personal and professional dreams. Albertine acknowledged that she had written the memoir with today’s female teens in mind. She said:

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I want them to see how often you have to fail to be anything in life. I think young men and boys are taught to fail. It’s nothing to them; they do sport, they fall over, they shout: “I’m all right”, and carry on. But with girls they’re so appallingly embar- rassed to fail, it’s like it’s considered unfeminine (Petridis 2014). During her talk at the British Library, she declared that the lack of discussion of female bands in the history of popular music is “a fight that never ends”. Viv claimed that women were the revolutionary thing about punk. To her the Clash and the Sex Pistols were still playing the formula 12-bar blues. She explained that the girls did not have role models, that female punkers provided a fresh take and that they were more rigorous than the boys in songwriting and politics. (Al- bertine 2016). In Clothes Clothes Clothes Music Music Music Boys Boys Boys, Albertine revealed:

Every cell in my body was steeped in music, but it never occurred to me that I could be in a band, not in a million years — why would it? Who’d done it before me? There was no one I could identify with. No girls played electric guitar. Especially not ordinary girls like me (Albertine 2016: 49). Yet, there were girls like her; girls like Memphis Minnie, Carole Kaye and Bon- nie Raitt, and their voices and stories are being heard through another platform. During the past decade popular musicians have turned increasingly to the memoir to set the record straight on lyrical meanings, recording sessions, band disputes, tours and the music industry. Wanting to capitalize on these primary sources as a means to develop students’ research and analytical skills, I created the memoir project for my “Issues in Popular Music: Women Who Rock” undergraduate honors course. With units covering styles such as blues, R&B, folk, pop, punk, disco and indie, students explore how female musicians responded to issues of gender, sexuality, identity and to larger social movements prevalent during their career. This essay explains the challenges of creating a large, open- ended research assignment, providing students with the training to conduct research and create a polished three minute presentation in the modality of their choice, and how presenting their ideas in different formats gave them the tools to write more persuasively and analytically. Constructing the memoir project When I began constructing the memoir project, I had to define what memoir meant. While an argument can be made especially in the case of artists such as Joni Mitchell and Adele that their musical output represents another form of a personal chronicle, I limited the class project to books. My goal was for students to learn how to discern the difference between a justifiable account of an issue

[email protected] Women who rock: The memoir project 65 and a rant. They needed to acquire the skills necessary to analyze how Ruth Brown and Cyndi Lauper characterized their interactions with their respective record labels and to consider whether their charges were backed up by verifiable evidence by other artists and employees, press notices in newspapers and trade magazines or even critical scholarship. Also, I hoped that as students were exposed to a variety of female artists throughout the course that their personal playlists would expand beyond the hit songs by Beyoncé, Katy Perry, Rihanna, Taylor Swift and Nicki Minaj. My initial idea was for students to submit entries for a class blog so that everyone could see the commonality of issues female artists faced and the types of publications where veritable information could be found. The problem came in the scheduling of assignments, exams, library and video how-to sessions, and lectures. My class met for seventy five minutes twice a week. How could I fit everything in and make it meaningful? Exams claimed three class sessions and the student presentations another three. It was important for me to allot time for discussion of the history of popular women musicians from Mamie Smith to Beyoncé and my students’ research. Artists such as Patsy Cline, Janis Joplin, Florence Ballard, Karen Carpenter and Dusty Springfield did not write memoirs before their untimely deaths. Yet, each woman made substantial contributions to popular music that I could not ignore. Something had to give and unfortunately it was the blogs. The memoir project assignment In laying out the memoir project in the syllabus, I gave some examples of how memoirs can fill in the blanks or open up new avenues of inquiry when examining a particular aspect of an artist’s career. I explained that in Just Kids Patti Smith chronicled her relationship with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. As we read her memoir, we find insights into how he influenced her songwriting, her performances and even her identity. Horses (1975) is considered a seminal album in the development of popular music. While we can contextualize Smith’s comments on the album alongside those of prominent music critics, we might also consider Mapplethorpe’s work during the time those songs were written and recorded, and how he and Smith inspired one another. In A Natural Woman: A Memoir, Carole King takes her readers inside the songwriting process, contextu- alizes songs with social and political movements, and helps us understand that even the most talented artists suffer from stage fright. King provides much fertile ground for investigating how the Goffin-King songwriting partnership worked, her writing for other artists such as Aretha Franklin, and how her friendship with James Taylor functioned. On a broader scale I told students that they might consider the sound and ambiance of specific performing venues, the impact of the

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Vietnam War, terrorism, addiction, adversity, or even the effect success has had on their artist’s musical career. My point was that each artist has a unique and compelling story that is waiting for further explication. I explained to students that their goal was to unearth one of those stories and to contextualize it within the period it was produced. The female musician’s memoir was to be their starting point. Students had sixty memoirs that ranged from Billie Holiday, Eartha Kitt, Darlene Love and Marianne Faithfull to Carly Simon, Lita Ford, Carrie Brown- stein and Jewel from which to choose. There were representatives from country, folk, musical theatre, girl groups, R&B, punk, pop and rock. Students’ choices tended to be based upon their already existing knowledge of female artists or popular music. If they were uncertain about who to choose, then I asked them which artists they listened to or if they had a particular genre or style that spoke to them. At that point I was able to find similarities either in genre, lyrical topics or a parallel in obstacles encountered and overcome and make suggestions. Constructing research questions I had to keep in mind that undergraduates are accustomed to receiving writing assignments where they are told exactly what information to include in their narrative and in what format. Giving them an open-ended project where they had to determine their own research question was daunting for many of them. Stu- dents did not know where to begin, what clues they should be teasing out of the work, or even what types of questions to ask. To guide them through their reading of their memoir. I provided them with a worksheet to complete. They were asked the following questions: What elements of your artist’s memoir did you find most intriguing? Which hit songs and albums were discussed? Did you artist discuss collaborations with other artists, songwriters, producers etc? Were specific tours or time in the studio a focus of your memoir? Did your artist connect any of her songs to social issues? Did you find any confusing or conflicting information? What is your proposed research topic? My hope was that, as they began to review their answers certain themes or re-occurring topics would emerge. I met with students individually to help them define their topic. I asked them to bring a completed copy of the worksheet to the consultation. As we worked through their responses, we were able to come up with a list of questions for them to answer as they conducted their research. Some examples included: How did Billie Holiday’s reception change after she was arrested for narcotics? Why did Sara Bareilles find it difficult to write songs with other artists? Is there a correlation between Viv Albertine’s fashion and her music? How did Motown shape Diana Ross’s artistry? After this one-hour consultation, students received

[email protected] Women who rock: The memoir project 67 another worksheet which helped to keep their research process focused. It acted as a reminder of the types of sources they needed to consult. They were encouraged to listen to their artist’s music, read album reviews, interviews and feature articles in trade magazines, to examine critical scholarship in peer-reviewed articles, biographies and critical studies on the artist and the era in which she worked. Students were asked to describe their research topic, to list questions about their artist and her work that they were trying to answer, to list the primary and secondary sources that they had consulted. They were encouraged to keep me posted throughout all stages of their research and to come in during office hours or to make an appointment to discuss their findings or frustrations. Research presentation modalities A further feature of the memoir project was that students were to present their work first in the modality of their choice; either as a three-minute video presentation that they had recorded on their computer or phone or as a live presentation. This was their opportunity to tell the story of their research in the modality in which they felt the strongest. In the syllabus, I noted that researchers learn how to present their ideas to various audiences whether it be for a civic group, a public audience or in the form of a formal paper at an academic conference. I acknowledged that giving a public presentation can be frightening and gave examples of things that can go wrong. What happens if I lose my train of thought? What if a fire alarm goes off and distracts me or my audience? What if the pages of my prepared talk are out of order or one page is missing? What if someone walks out of the room during my presentation? I reminded students that as a means to promote Thriller (1982), Michael Jackson loved making music videos. The ability to edit gave him the power to make everything about the song’s performance perfect. The process of self-editing taught them how to hit the main points of their argument and not get lost in the details. After they conducted their research, students were given further guidelines on how to create their presentations. They were advised to script their talk whether it be the entire presentation or a detailed outline. As they wrote their script, they were told to think about their audience as they needed to make sure they were utilizing language that was easily understood. They were cautioned that if they used jargon, then they might need to explain it. Students were given more questions to answer as a means to help build the foundation of their talk. I asked them to consider how their topic helps us understand more clearly a particular aspect of their female artist’s contribution to popular music and culture. They needed to think about how relevant specific images and texts were to their topic and how they allowed an audience to contemplate their ideas more fully.

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Presentation criteria The course syllabus included a copy of the criteria used to evaluate their presentations. There were five categories in which their work was assessed. The categories included knowledge of their topic, coherence: structure and cohesiveness, use of multimedia, poise and feedback. Under “knowledge of your topic”, students were expected to display a sophisticated understanding of their topic, to utilize appropriate vocabulary, present original ideas and to incorporate critical scholarship to substantiate and/or contextualize their ideas. For “coherence: structure and cohesiveness”, they needed to include an introduction, develop an argument, clearly state points, give examples from the memoir and other research materials, make smooth transitions between points and have a conclusion. For “multimedia”, whether it was a video or live presentation, they needed to include images and text that were relevant to the presentation. For “poise”, students were expected to speak at a volume that was easily heard at the back of the room, for the talk to flow smoothly, to convey enthusiasm for their research, to hold their audience’s attention and to stay within the three minute time limit. For “feedback”, they were evaluated on their ability to respond to questions about their artist and to clarify points that they made in their talk. To keep the entire class engaged with each speaker’s presentation, students were given a half sheet of paper where they were asked to note what they believed were the strong points of the presentation. What did they find the most intriguing? The second criteria asked them to provide suggestions on how the speaker could strengthen his or her argument. The peer evaluations were anonymous. Students folded the sheets in half after they finished writing comments. I collected them, put them in an envelope and gave it to the respective speaker without reading the comments myself. It was a win-win situation for everyone. Students saw what did and did not work in a presentation and learned how to provide constructive criticism in a thoughtful manner. I utilized both forms of feedback so that students had the opportunity to explain aspects about their topic that they did not have time to cover in their presentation and to have new ideas to consider as they worked on their research essay. Student presentations Students who did well on their presentations were those who had a powerful opening statement. One focused on Etta James’s creation of an image that was all her own. In her memoir, James noted that “I wanted to be rare, I wanted to be noticed, I wanted to be glamorous, I wanted to be exotic as a Cotton Club chorus girl, and I wanted to be obvious as the most flamboyant hooker on the street” (James 1995: 61). My student explained that while James was known for her

[email protected] Women who rock: The memoir project 69 powerful voice and her ability to interpret soulful ballads, the only way for her to gain agency was to maintain control of her look. Chess Records controlled her music and realized that she had chart success by recording triangle love songs. Another student caught everyone’s attention by announcing that she was Sheila E’s secret twin. She made it clear that Sheila E’s story was also hers. Her presentation argued that beating on a drum was Sheila’s salvation and that it helped her deal with the trauma of sexual abuse, kept her away from drugs and taught her how to stand up for herself. A third student began her presentation by showing images of her father and her family. She then showed images from Chrissie Hynde’s childhood and made the point that Hynde is “one of us” and like us had a “normal childhood”. My final example came from a student who began her presentation by asking “Who is your voice? Taylor Swift? Adele? For country listeners in the 1960s and 1970s, it was Loretta Lynn”. She then focused on how Lynn’s open and honest depictions of a poor Southern woman’s life gave her fans a voice. Students realized how important it was to have a dramatic or im- pactful opening statement. Once they had their audience’s attention, they were able to explain why the crafting of a definable image, the conveyance of personal experiences and resilience were elements that led to chart-topping success. Students who took a creative approach to their presentation also caught everyone’s complete attention. How do you deal with a poetic memoir? One student was quite frustrated because she found Patti Smith’s writing to be all over the place. M Train focused less on Smith’s music and her pushing of gender boundaries with her androgynous persona and more about her coping with the deaths of her husband and brother. My student came up with an ingenious approach to dissecting the memoir, as she looked at where and how Smith wrote. Her presentation focused on four themes: coffee shops, photography, traveling, and Smith’s return to music with her 1996 album Gone Again. Another student examined Viv Albertine’s image and how it corresponded to her music and personal life. The foundation for her talk came from the list of clothes, music and boys who were part of Albertine’s life and listed at the end of the memoir. My student used the list to trace Albertine’s musical development. Conclusion Having students do a presentation before submitting their final research essay allowed me to identify areas that needed to be refined and to work with them on an individual basis. Typically, honors students are solid writers. However, across the board many believed everything their artist said. They took their artist for her word and did not question why she would focus on difficulties with her record label such as Ruth Brown did with Atlantic or Cyndi Lauper with Epic Records. I was able to ask if they had looked at biographies or critical scholarship that

[email protected] 70 Donna S. Parsons focused on Atlantic Records, Ahmet Ertegun or other artists who had recorded at Atlantic. They were encouraged to look at the New York Times, Los Angeles Times or other newspapers to review press coverage of lawsuits. If the artist was a member of a group such as Diana Ross, Belinda Carlisle or Cherrie Currie, I suggested that they look at what other members said about a particular issue or song, whether it be in a memoir by Lita Ford or Mary Wilson. Students were encouraged to consult the Rock’s Backpages database for artist interviews, feature articles and critical reception of singles and albums. The point was that they needed to investigate all angles of an issue to get to its root. In some way every presentation emphasized the variety of obstacles female artists faced in launching and even sustaining their careers. As we discussed the common threads that students were finding in their memoirs, we realized that no matter the era or genre, women faced similar difficulties. Yet, the tone of their memoir was not one of doom and gloom: it focused on being a survivor and realizing one’s dreams. References Bibliography Albertine, V. 2016. Clothes Clothes Clothes Music Music Music Boys Boys Boys. Lon- don: Faber and Faber Ltd. James, E. and Rit, D. 1995. Rage to Survive: The Etta James Story. New York: Villard Books. Petridis, A. 2014. The Slits’ Viv Albertine on Punk, Violence and Doomed Domesticity. The Guardian, 1 June. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2014/jun/01/the-slits-viv- albertine-punk-violence-domesticity. Accessed: 28 June 2018. Interview Albertine, V. 2016. Interview by Kate Mossman, London, 14 July.

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Group listening, a typical practice of popular music applied to musician training

Elina Goldsack Instituto Superior de Música. Universidad Nacional del Litoral. Santa Fe, Argentina [email protected] Developing perceptive abilities in musical training entails a challenge of acquiring a good inner hearing without losing the pleasure of listening. While hearing is an individual activity, by socializing the hearing practice, an improved reciprocity can be accomplished. Over the year 1999, I was in charge of the third year of the Audioperception chair at the Instituto Superior de Música, Universidad Nacional del Litoral. This group included students from varied specialties, in many cases having trouble associated with a feeling of inability or impossibility, which in turn resulted in a rejection of the perceptive activity. On the other hand, from my personal experience, musical listening has always been associated with pleasure, whether in a family or a friendly environment. The exchange involved in these instances, stemming from the diverse ways of listening and focusing audition, has always proven a rewarding and, as a result, highly valuable experience. For this reason, I set out to try to find a way to transmit this practice, trace back the subject’s origin, develop in the group an important sense of possibility and enjoyment towards the themes that they have to work on. This paper describes the development of the group transcription that was made from the song “Perdido he’i andado”, compiled by Leda Valladares and adapted by Liliana Herrero and her musicians.

Keywords: popular music, group listening, teaching

Introduction The subject Audioperception has been introduced after a suggestion by Emma Garmendia and was intended as an alternative to update the old Theory and Sol- fege practice. Audioperception sought to bring back intuitive processes, high-

[email protected] 72 Elina Goldsack lighting the listening and playing experience, but has not always been successfully implemented. On many occasions it led to situations contrary to those presented here. It is thus that for many students, anything connected to the field of perception will be a major source of struggle, rather than a door to understanding, knowledge and enjoyment. This project involved working and expanding on the first aspect that is per- ceptively comfortable and sharing the listening. This also favored a series of important decisions in relation to writing, as doubts surfaced as to how to encode practices coming from orality. With regard to the music chosen, I was interested in suggesting Argentine music with current features, yet related to folk roots. Therefore I turned to singer Liliana Herrero and her version of a traditional Argentine baguala. This experience favored not only an opening in the perceptive field and the ways of writing it, but also an introduction to a repertoire which belongs to Argentina’s cultural reality, from tradition to modernity. I will begin by discussing some reflections in relation to the ways of listening and writing which make a case for promoting this activity and how it should be performed. The variables found at present in terms of new musical expressions and technological advances raised the need for a regular update and assessment of the musical reality under study. On the ways of listening For listening with headphones ̶ Julio Cortázar

I revel in the woman next to me listening to records with headphones, in her face reflecting unwittingly whatever is happening within this little inner night, within this total intimacy of the music and her ears. If I’m also listening, the reactions I see on her mouth or her eyes are explainable, but when she alone is listening there is something fascinating to those passages, those fleeting transformations of the expression, those minute gestures of the hands changing rhythms and sound into gesture movements, music into theatre, melody into moving sculpture (Cortázar 1984:34). That “inner night” is unique for each one of us. Each person listens differently for a variety of circumstances. The place where they live, the family environment, the age s/he is, the different ways how they experience music at an early age, the interests in the meaning of the text or in certain cultures, the instrument they play, the emotional factor associated with specific musics ̶ these factors will make a difference in the choice of genres, styles, periods and the way of listening to them. My perceptive development project seeks to raise awareness of this starting point, acknowledging my own peculiarities and reflecting open-mindedness

[email protected] Group listening, a typical practice of popular music 73 toward other expressions, so as to pursue, along such lines, a diverse and integrating sound world. In other respects, the technological advance in the form of recording, access to disks and music-playing devices paved the way to a new reality in relation to listening.

Insofar as design progressed and production scaled up, the record player industry went more competitive and sets more affordable for the pockets of the middle class, that class which needed to be seduced. As it happened the record player boom came before 33 rpm disks and their logic derivation: long play disks. Between 1952 and 1955, in the United States alone music player production grew fivefold (Pujol 2004: 142). The recorded sound is installed as another way of listening to music. This is what Juan Pablo González contends:

The widespread technological development of sound occurring as of World War II, with an improvement of sound amplification and enhancement systems and its subsequent application in the civil area, would help develop a critical phenomenon in the second half of the twentieth century: sound recorded in a studio and listened at home will become the authentic manifestation of music. This way, public interpretation must resemble as much as possible the standards set by the record (González 2009: 94). The appearance and uniqueness of records brought about another kind of activity, which was group listening. Until the advent of cassettes, listening to a vinyl record was only possible if it was acquired, bought. This resulted in two things: a large circulation through lending and, second, a habit of gathering to share a record owned by just one person. Therefore, the situation of gathering for listening was leading in turn to an exchange of views and pleasure. In the academic circles, the use of music players for teaching was steadily assuming a leading role. As a result of the playing quality and the access to various recordings, new practices were being introduced in classrooms, including repeated listening. In the specific field of music reading and writing teaching, the use of new technologies which enabled access to recordings from different periods and styles led to practices and trainings other than traditional voice or instrument dictations. Working with “real music” in the perceptive exercise and in the context of institutions posed another dilemma in cutting down the corpus. How to approach a sound corpus so overwhelming, so unfathomable? Ever since starting out this activity, I have been making different choices and further shaping what I consid-

[email protected] 74 Elina Goldsack ered appropriate. Not only are these decisions taken on the basis of culture, ideology, identity, but also in feasibility conditions in terms of student training, amount per course, the storage type and the circulation of such music. By way of example, I present here a table that I use to explain this to students and explain somehow or other what I am proposing. This organization based on writing or non-writing of music ties this practice to the specificity of my subject and on the other hand it implies a reflection on how music is produced and reproduced. The blank for the characteristics is filled out by everyone while listening and the description at the type of training is for organizing and thinking on how this music is studied by relating it to its peculiarities.

Music WRITTEN PARTIALLY NON-WRITTEN WRITTEN Examples Beethoven, Miles Davis, Au- Toba Chorus Chelaalapi. 9th symphony. tumn Leaves Negots hec Presto

Piazzolla, The XX Century Aca- Electroacoustic history of tango demic music, for example aleatoric

Characteristic

Training Development: Development: Development: - of reading and - of traditional - of perception to under- writing and its reading and writing stand not so usual codes. theoretic back- and other known - of hearing to be able to ground. codes of forms of recognize parameters and - of hearing while reading: their different uses. reading and writ- - of unconventional - of hearing to learn parts ing writing without reading. - of hearing while - of hearing and - of hearing to play and playing or singing theoretical models create without read- by reading or from for playing and ing(improvisation) memory. creating without - of criteria to make options - of perception to reading (improvisa- for writing codes that will go beyond the tion) not always be transcribed score. - of perception to into the western system. go beyond the score - of reading and writing and and return to it its theoretical background. when necessary Table 1. Goldsack 2009.

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On the ways of writing The complex process involved in carrying music from sound to paper, what María del Carmen Aguilar describes as the transposition of an event happening in the auditory-temporal universe to a visual-spatial universe, is the result of varied needs. It is made by the composer or arranger to capture an idea, it is used by the musicologist when he needs an insight into the practices of a different culture, it is made by the music student or musician to understand composition, improvisation, arrangement and interpretation processes. This implies different decisions when it comes to writing, because detail, the accuracy level, will be associated to the writing goal. In relation to this topic, Hood points to this dilemma in the musicologist’s work:

This exercise of dictation reveals a persistent problem in transposition which requires elaboration — that is, what level of detail needs to be written down? — and, as we will see later, a number of related factors must be considered: the nature and effectiveness related to notation in terms of the particular musical tradition it serves, the problems in Western notation application to other traditions and the consideration of alternative approaches for non-Western music notation (Hood 2001: 84). In the context of a class where the goal is to develop transcription abilities, the complexity of transcription of parameters (rhythm-melody-harmony) is coupled by the form and texture resolution, the consolidation of a “criterion” to make the writing and make decisions which have no mathematical resolution and are related to style and culture issues. Another complex aspect of transmission is the exact place to resolve the writing without invading the “oral” codes of the musics. In other words, anything that is not written but gives them their peculiarity, style, and which is hindered by the written code. The chosen song: “Perdido he’i andado”: Compilation by Leda Valladares from Liliana Herrero’s album El tiempo quizás... The baguala is a genre deeply rooted among the so-called coyas, that is, the Argentine north-western mountain mestizos, albeit is also shared by some creole groups as their heritage (Cámara de Landa 1996: 112). It is part of the Argentine pre-colonial musical repertoire, an in this instance the version is included in a compilation made by Leda Valladares (major performer, composer and researcher born in the city of Tucumán). As for Liliana Herrero, she is a singer, performer, and thinker, defined by Rodríguez Kees as one of the leading figures of the vanguard of Popular Song in post-dictatorship Argentina. She renders here an original and current version of

[email protected] 76 Elina Goldsack this traditional baguala (2006: 17) in the company of musicians with distinguished careers who lend their creativity to the resulting version. They are, Roy Elder (sax), Ivan Tarabelli (keyboards), Claudio Bolzani (bass), Juancho Perone (drums). The experience The work I am going to describe has several stages: first, in class, group analysis and transcription of the main melody line. The explanation of the instructions for the student’s paper. The revision and creation of a general score and the conclusions after everything is done. In the first audition, I suggested students a listening with no instructions, allowing each to guide their perception toward their initial interest. This is meant to motivate the resolutions of the other parameters to be dealt with. Later on I suggested writing down the lyrics to help them memorize the melody, arranging the formal structure and focusing on the lyrics’ meaning. The overall formal analysis presents the need to listen to the whole song repeatedly, so that the melody to be written can also be memorized. We did it twice in class. After this, I suggested the transcription and writing of the voice melody and rhythm in the first introduction of the whole baguala, all of which was carried out individually. After much discussion, we wrote on the board one of the possibilities, leaving the final writing unfinished for the practical work every group had to complete. The instructions were as follows: working in groups of two or three people. Transcribing the vocals of the whole song and an instrument of their choice, respecting the real pitch. As I have stated above, the group was large so correction was complex. What happened was all the instruments that appear in the recording were written down. This confirmed the diversity of choice or perceptive preference that I have also described. After that, a composition student arranged the complete writing of the score. In the appendix, a fragment of the completed work is shown. Here is a description of the topics discussed: variable metre-syncopation, rhythm and its link with the text, ornaments typical of bagualas (kenko) over the major chord, modal superposition (major-minor) with tense harmonies, different textures, timbres, registers and their writing, analysis of the version, approach to Argentine folklore, development of group work enabling an exchange among the different ways of listening the same, reflections on writing forms and listening forms This description is part of this subject’s specific goals, but I believe there is a more important and comprehensive general goal. It refers to the conducts I am concerned with raising in students, and has to do with the awareness of being unfinished, open, curious and creative.

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The challenge of including novelty, diversity, and broadness in class is a complex thing to achieve but a vital one to transmit. As Paulo Freire framed it: “teaching entails awareness of unfinishedness”:

As a critical teacher, I’m a responsible “adventurer”, predisposed to change, to acceptance of the different. Nothing that I experienced in the process of teaching must be necessarily repeated. I repeat as inevitable, however, the immunity to myself, radical, before others and the world. My immunity against the others and against the world itself is the radical way I experience myself as a cultural, historic, unfinished self, aware of unfinishedness (Freire 2002:49). References Bibliography Aguilar, M. del C. 2008. El libro del maestro: Didáctica de la lectoescritura musical. Buenos Aires: Particular. Cámara de Landa, E. ̶ 1996. Baguala y proyección folklórica. In Actas del Primer Congreso de la Sociedad Ibérica de Etnomusicología. Barcelona: Edita la ma de Guido: 109 ̶ 114. 2006. Entre Humahuaca y la Quiaca. Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid. Cortázar, J. 1984. Salvo el crepúsculo. Buenos Aires: Sudamericana. Freire, P.2002. Pedagogía de la autonomía: Saberes necesarios para la práctica educativa. Buenos Aires: Siglo XXI Editores. González, J. P, Ohlsen, O. and Rolle, C. 2009. Historia de la música popular en Chile: 1959 ̶ 1970. Santiago: Ediciones Universidad Católica de Chile. Hood, M. 2001. Transcripción y notación. In F. Cruces et al. Eds. Las culturas musicales: Lecturas de etnomusicología. Madrid: Trotta: 79 ̶ 114. Pujol, S. ̶ 2004. Jazz al sur: Historia de la música negra en la argentina. Buenos Aires: Emecé. 2011. Como la cigarra: Biografía de María Elena Walsh. Buenos Aires: Emecé. Rodriguez Kees, D. 2006. Liliana Herrero: Vanguardia y canción popular. Santa Fe: Ediciones UNL. Discography Liliana Herrero.1998. El tiempo quizás... Compilation of Herrero’s first two phonograms: Liliana Herrero 1987. La mar Records ̶ Esa Fulanita. 1989. La mar Records. Uni- versidad Nacional del Litoral. Argentina.

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Appendix

Part 1:

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Part 2:

Part 3:

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Curricular orientations of secondary school specializing in music in Argentina: Input for inserting popular music into educational institutions

María Inés López Instituto Superior de Música, Universidad Nacional del Litoral, Santa Fe, Argentina [email protected] Secondary education in Argentina has set out on the road to renovation since the enactment of the National Education Law in the year 2006. In the province of Santa Fe, Oriented and Specialized Secondary Education form a jurisdictional curricular project that is one of the first experiences in the country. The writing units for the specialized secondary school curricular orientations, in which I engaged alongside Elina Goldsack, were composed of two members per discipline. In the case of music, we both belong to Instituto Superior de Música (ISM), Universidad Nacional del Litoral (UNL). This paper seeks to investigate the connections between curricular orientations and the approach of the said project, relating research into popular music with its inclusion in educational institutions. The suggestion is to observe the connections between the project’s input into the field of research and the pedagogic aspect. This methodological position and ideological framework were instrumental in shaping institutional proposals for popular music inclusion in music institutions of various levels, devising teaching methods that deal with production, circulation and technology matters specific to these musics.

Keywords: curricular orientations, school, popular music

Introduction From the year 2009 onward, research projects have been conducted (CAI+D, Course of Action for Research and Development) at UNL’s ISM in the field of popular music. These projects overseen by Elina Goldsack are titled “Popular Music Genres in the City of Santa Fe: Crossover and Hybridization during the Eighties” and “Argentina’s Popular Music: Hybridization Processes and Alterna- tive Circuits of Circulation since the Opening of Democracy”. As a responsible © Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden GmbH, part of Springer Nature 2019 M. Dumnić Vilotijević und I. Medić (Hrsg.), Contemporary Popular Music Studies, Systematische Musikwissenschaft, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-658-25253-3_8

[email protected] 82 María Inés López group, we are advancing towards the development a theoretical framework for popular music research and observing the resistance to its inclusion in institutions specializing in music. We examined the specificity of the field of study and its peculiarities, musical analysis methods and the role of musical notation and transcription. The room for popular music research and educational practices including popular music at the institutional level has broadened recently. Debates thus focus on methodologic matters which explain this transformation. Popular music inclusion has often been hindered by views claiming in some cases that if its “production procedures” are not included (Madoery 2000:1) and its specificity is overlooked, educational standards intended for other musics will persist, which in turn points to a suggestion of an assumed “universality”. This in turn results in a reduction and simplification of the field of study: everything becomes analyza- ble under the scope of academic music, which has undervaluing implications. In an attempt to overcome these institutional standards, a connection is made from the outset between input of all research projects conducted in UNL’s ISM and aspects concerning popular music inclusion at institutional level. This will help delimit its peculiarities and closely examine content organization and systematization proposals in order to deal with categories in the educational system which share specifically this orientation. The case described in this article is that of curricular orientations in secondary schools specializing in music in Argentina: Secondary School with Live Music Performance ̶ Popular Music speciality, in the province of Santa Fe. Secondary school specializing in music Since the enactment of the National Education Law in the year 2006, secondary schools began to undergo changes in Argentina. In the province of Santa Fe, Oriented and Specialized Secondary Education form a jurisdictional curricular project that is one of the first experiences in the country. It is shaped within the legal framework given by National Education national Law No 26,206, resolutions by the Federal Board of Education (CFE) such as 84/09, which set the political lines and strategies for Obligatory Secondary Education, and 93/09, which established the Orientations for the educational and institutional organization of Obligatory Education. On the basis of this law, the “artistic category” was established which enabled the registration of all secondary schools into this type of orientation, including the schools in the province of Santa Fe. This regulatory and educational whole also covers CFE resolutions whereby Frames of Reference for Oriented Secondary Education are passed, along with provincial resolutions sanctioned for

[email protected] Curricular orientations of secondary school specializing in music 83 the same purposes. CFE Resolution 179/12, in its Appendix IV, provides “frames of reference for Art/Music discipline Secondary School” (2014). It therein aims at giving relevance to knowledge associated with artistic and musical practices of a collective, popular and contemporary nature, highlighting local, Argentine and Latin American manifestations. It also enquires into current forms of expression and communication among young people and adolescents. The proposal we analyze is framed from two categories for Secondary School, in different artistic disciplines: Oriented school and Specialized school from a standpoint focusing both on specificity and overcoming fragmented visions of the arts as stale compartments. In contrast to Oriented secondary school, where music specific curricular spaces are taught since third grade, at Specialized school they are included since the first year and three daily class hours devoted to them are added, besides standard secondary education subjects. The diploma to be awarded is Secondary School with Live Music Performance ̶ Popular Music speciality. The reference document for Artistic Secondary Education in the Province of Santa Fe which we worked on is the joint resolution of 30 December 2014 between provincial Ministries of Education and Culture and Innovation. It is a joint resolution insofar as Artistic Secondary Schools in the province of Santa Fe share a dependency on both ministries. For the M. E. is resolution 2712/14 and for the M. I. C. is resolution 783/14. The curricular orientation layout is based on the following premises: They are a result of that change of paradigm that the aforesaid educational framework promotes and curricular orientations of Oriented Secondary School are taken as reference. Work is made in contact with two schools from the province. Both institutions have been functioning, one as a folklore school (music and dance) and the other as a music school. They were selected by the Santa Fe Province Artistic Education Office to develop Specialized secondary schools so as to link the aforesaid framework with the praxis hitherto performed. These institutions are the dance Provincial School Ni- gelia Soria 5032 from Rosario and the Music Provincial School N° 9902 “C.R.E.I.” from Santa Fe. The proposal is the inclusion of popular music from its specificity. The basis is formed by the theoretical background and the bibliography analyzed within project CAI+D from ISM-UNL which was referred to. The specific curricular spaces that are introduced in three study hours and are added to secondary education standard subjects are: Singing with Rhythmic and Harmonic Accompaniment, Group singing, Vocal Ensemble, Native, South American Native Instruments, Sound Discourse Organization, Ensemble, Sound- Specific Technologies, Music and Context, Art Projects in Work Settings, Inte- grated Language ̶ Audiovisual.

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Secondary School specializing in Music

1st year 2nd year 3rd year 4th year 5th year

Curricular h/ h/ Curricular h/ h/ Curricular h/ h/ Curricular h/ h/ Curricular h/ h/ Space d w Space d w Space d w Space d w Space d w

Language and 4 96 Language and 4 96 Language and 4 96 Language and 4 96 Language and 4 96 Literature Literature Literature Literature Literature

Mathematics 4 96 Mathematics 4 96 Mathematics 4 96 Mathematics 3 72 Mathematics 3 72

Foreign 3 72 Foreign 3 72 Foreign 3 72 Foreign 3 72 Foreign 3 72 Language Language Language Language Language

Physical 3 72 Physical 3 72 Physical 3 72 Physical 3 72 Physical 3 72 Education Education Education Education Education

Ethical and 2 48 Ethical and 2 48 Identity and 3 72 Participation 3 72 Rights and 3 72 Civic Education Civic Education Civic Construc- and Civic Civic Construc- tion Construction tion

Technological 2 48 Technological 2 48 Physics 3 72 Chemistry 3 72 Philosophy 3 72 Education Education

Biology 4 96 History 4 96 History 3 72 History 3 72 Art Project in 4 96 Working Environments

Geography 4 96 Physics and 4 96 Biology 3 72 Geography 3 72 Integrated 3 72 Chemistry Language: Audiovisual Arts

Artistic 4 96 Artistic 4 96 Artistic 3 72 Music and 3 72 Music and 3 72 Education I: Education II: Education III: Context I Context II Dance Visual Arts Theatre

Singing with 3 72 Singing with 3 72 Singing with 3 72 Singing with 3 72 Singing with 3 72 Rhythmic and Rhythmic and Rhythmic and Rhythmic and Rhythmic and Harmonic Harmonic Harmonic Harmonic Harmonic Accompani- Accompani- Accompani- Accompani- Accompani- ment I ment II ment III ment IV ment V

Native and 3 72 Native and 3 72 Latin American 3 72 Latin American 3 72 Latin American 3 72 South South Rhythms and Rhythms and Rhythms and American American Popular Popular Popular Instruments Instruments II Instruments I Instruments II Instruments III

Group Singing I 3 72 Group Singing 3 72 Vocal 3 72 Vocal 3 72 Vocal 3 72 II Ensemble I Ensemble II Ensemble III

Sound 3 72 Sound 3 72 Sound 3 72 Sound 3 72 Sound 3 72 Discourse Discourse Discourse Discourse Discourse Arrangement I Arrangement II Arrangement III Arrangement Arrangement V IV

Ensemble I 3 72 Ensemble II 3 72 Ensemble III 4 96 Ensemble IV 4 96 Ensemble V 4 96

Sound Specific 3 72 Sound Specific 3 72 Sound Specific 3 72 Technologies I Technologies II Technologies III

45 45 48 47 48

Table 1. Grid with yearly detail of curricular spaces shared by other secondary schools (shaded) and specific to the musical activity, weekly hour count and yearly hour count for Secondary Education Specializing in Music.

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Research into popular music as the basis for developing curricular orientation As a responsible group from project CAI+D 2009, we began analyzing our own teaching practices in which we included popular music-related contents. In considering educational and musical performance, a need emerges to delimit the field of study, and therefore it was necessary to examine popular music definitions made from different fields (music, musicology, journalism and pedagogy) contextualize them and assess their currency. Work was also performed on the identification of elements typifying the object to understand its specificity. Later on, research and analysis focused on fusion local music which was the project’s object, but the educational aspects of teaching popular music were still developed, both at secondary and university education. By the time curricular Orientations were being written, in the year 2013, popular music began to be included in some further-education institutions and universities in the country and did not exist as a category of secondary education. The research on theoretical background and understanding of popular music characteristics were key to delimit new subjects and update some already existing spaces. While the features that are listed below are not presented exclusively or uni- laterally, some clarification was required to orient a curricular organization plan for a music until recently absent in institutions. The characteristics examined are: Focus on the execution; circulation predominantly through sound. Instrumental practices with a relative degree of spontaneity. Improvisation spaces with various locations and functions. Direct relation with technology and some degree of interference. Identification with one or several genres (in hybridation and fusion instances) by recognizable features referring to a code text, defined as follows:

[…] text acting as a model but frequently operating without awareness, organizing, in the case of music, the instrumentalist’s or composer’s memory, dictating the possible variation boundaries of the text” (Sánchez 2000: 6).

Organization through rhythmic patterns take place in the course of time. Repetition of structural importance. Pattern-genre connection. Music notation specific role and characteristics. Inclusion of symbols, partial writing, different decoding from traditional notation and use of other figured or tablature systems.

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Importance of versions with different types of connections to the “reference version” (López Cano 2011: 1). Performer’s creative involvement, leaving their mark. The arrangement as a process of production mode between the composition and the interpretation or in the construction of a version. Shifting of not distinctly outlined roles between composer, arranger or in- terpreter. Prevalence of the collective. Rehearsal as a unique creative space where the group work has an impact on the sound outcome. Performance issues that shape circulation and production trends, modes and circuits. Key relation between context and contemporaneity. From the enunciation of these characteristics (Goldsack, López and Pérez 2013: 58), core ideas can be recognized across the whole curricular design. Methodol- ogy matters at this point become very important. For this purpose, subjects are considered which can account for a specific type of learning, focusing on the collective and the introduction of technology. In the words of Juan Pablo Gonzá- lez, “writing and orality will mostly act as complements to a popular musician’s intervened training” (2013: 113). Core ideas across curricular design Latin-Americanness. It is suggested as an alternative to the widespread Eurocen- tric approach in specialized institutions and secondary school music categories in the country. This educational approach favors a music which does not appear as an easy field to delimitate, but as a permanently shifting one, because “in Latin America, music is synonymous with, first, orality, tradition and community, and second, mediality, innovation and massiveness” (González 2013: 113). The collective. It refers to the nature of many typical practices in Latin American musics as well as rehearsal time, which is key to popular music arrangement and composition process, since group work affects the sound outcome.

Working tools and procedures, in this case, the instrument(s) and medium(s), like the rehearsal organization, go hand in hand with the musical language developed in the composition or arrangement, leaving marks in the musical work (Madoery 2000: 138). The examples of this argument can be clearly observed in the subject Ensemble, around which the curricular layout was structured. The performative. From the Live Music category, the stress is on the mise en scene, the relationship with the audience and the technological aspects. Tools

[email protected] Curricular orientations of secondary school specializing in music 87 are suggested for live presentations in spaces related to sound management and recording as sound-specific technologies. The song. For its central role in the practices of popular musicians, it stands as a favored means of expression in this proposal. The popular song, whether traditional or urban, is a product of certain time and place coordinates, and explains language peculiarities in relation to the poetic text reflecting roots, traditions, influences and contemporaneity. Its bond to memory and its evocative quality make it an identifying example of the peoples. Its very structure implies complex networks of meaning, containing a range of interpretation and reception possibilities. This materializes in the singing and rhythmic-harmonic accompaniment and group singing spaces. Other aspects of the curricular design in relation to field specificity Implementation of changes in the name of subjects that are delimited in terms of the suggested orientation. This modification concerns existing curricular spaces but it adds a proposition about content substantial changes. Because of the symbolic and ideological stamp that is attached to any designation, it is worth pointing out the institutional resistance to some of these terms, which defy long- standing use and include unprecedented musical practices. Some modifications are: Sound discourse organization, as proposal to update Audioperception and Musical Language proposals. This subject encompasses musical reading, writing and perception and includes notations used in popular music (figured writing, tabulations, traditional notation with other sorts of application) Music and context. As opposed to Music History, it proposes an alternative type of organization to the hitherto exclusive model. It focuses on the routes and connections among different musics and the socio-historical aspects. It strays away from the universalist argument of “music” which persists even today in musical learning institutions and is described by Mendívil:

But absolute music, like German idealism, was founded in evolutionist premises and, as a consequence of this, lent the illusion of a system of universal single-line development which grew from the simple to the complex, that is, from an apparently primitive music, bound by work or worship, to an autonomous one, free from any utilitarian interference and thus structurally and aesthetically loftier (Mendívil 2016: 22). Group singing. As a different proposition to Choral Ensemble, which refers to a vocal group related to academic choral practices and vocal technique. This space includes other kinds of community singing experience, which does not always need to be polyphonic and creates a variety of rural and urban practices.

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South American native instruments/Latin American popular rhythms and instruments. Local timbres are included, spaces that are customarily reserved to recorders at school are altered to include Andean wind instruments. The goal is also to understand the acoustic aspects of its workings by the construction of some instruments. They are brought into the Latin American popular genre repertoire using a rhythmic approach. Preparation for work is a ubiquitous topic in the regulatory frame of reference. For that matter, the creation of spaces to furnish musicians with tools for their training is important in terms of their performance at the workplace, their rights and obligations, absent in the context of institutions. For its writing, ties are built with independent civil associations of musicians that work in the local scene to improve the conditions in which the musical activity is performed. This is the case of art Projects in working contexts. Some considerations about its implementation as a conclusion After five years of its implementation in the Provincial Music School N° 9902 “C.R.E.I.” in Santa Fe, the first group of students completed its Specialized Sec- ondary Education. In this context, an occasion appeared for analysis and reflection by a group of teachers, who formed a panel coordinated by Elina Goldsack. They appeared on the occasion of “Musicians in Congress 2017: Latin American musics and education”, a meeting of musicians, teachers and researchers at UNL’s ISM. In this way, an exchange took place between research projects, the curricular design and the praxis developed by teachers. The panel was named “Five years after the beginning of the Secondary Education School Specializing in Music N° 9902 ̶ C.R.E.I.” and the participating teachers were Matías Marcipar, Veronica Pittau and Sergio Marchi. The overview states:

Five years after being launched, three teachers of the music secondary school’s first year reflect through a panel over their specific practices in relation to the curricular definitions of such novel spaces as are the subjects Singing with Accompaniment, Sound Discourse Organization and South American Native Instruments. […] From the practice of the said three subjects, each one with different objectives and methods, though being part of the same mechanism, we expect, besides presenting elements for this educational project’s evaluation, to contribute to the discussion about what types of teacher profile should contribute to preparing post-secondary education to practice teaching within this new kind of educational-musical propositions. In addition to raising a debate about the applied methodological practices, such as orality in musical training they bring forward a critical view on the profile of the teacher approaching those spaces and their relation with their own training.

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In short, it is a proposal for theoretical reflection and evaluation of Specialized school implementation which complements the viewpoint to make any revisions and changes that curricular designs and their application require, after a certain time of working. The panel also proposed including a live musical performance by a group of students from the Specialized secondary school, as part of the congress, which proved a musical correlation to the theoretical proposal covering also the practice of sound management, in which students of the UNL’s ISM engaged. Instances of this sort, with multiple viewpoints, play a major part in understanding the field of study and its inclusion at institutional level. It is worth pointing out the UNL’s ISM is on the verge of implementing a university program on popular music in whose layout and planning we were involved, sharing our views from our relation with the aforementioned research projects. This is a moment of transformations at the core of teaching environments looking to category changes or inclusion of popular music in their curricular proposals. These modifications, whose complexity is reflected by contradictions and resistance, propose a journey that has already begun and demands permanent attention and study. In these processes, attempts to preserve an inherited paradigm are at work. This paradigm stems from what Williams refers to as “selec- tive traditions”, pointing out that this struggle for and against them understandably represents a vital part of any contemporary cultural activity (1980: 139). Creating contact and exchange spaces between secondary and higher education institutions, between research, musical practice and the educational aspect, will help evaluate and improve this road taken, which is a major challenge as a proposal to modify current institutional standards. References Consejo Federal de Educación CFE. 2014. Resolución Nº 179/12, Anexo IV. Marcos de referencia para la Secundaria de Arte del lenguaje/disciplina Música. http://repositorio.educacion.gov.ar/dspace/bitstream/handle/123456789/110045/ART E%20Resol%20179-192%20web.pdf?sequence=1. Accessed: 17 October 2017. Goldsack, E , López, M. I. and Pérez, H. 2013. Música popular: Algunas propuestas para su estudio: Aproximaciones a la música de fusión en la ciudad de Santa Fe. Revista del ISM-UNL 13: 53 ̶ 173. González, J. P. 2013. Pensar la música desde América Latina. Santiago de Chile: Edicio- nes Universidad Alberto Hurtado. López Cano, R. 2011. Lo original de la versión: De la ontología a la pragmática de la versión en música popular urbana. Consensus 16: 57 ̶ 82. Madoery, D. R. 2000. Los procedimientos de producción musical en música popular. Revista del ISM-UNL 7: 76 ̶ 94. Mendívil, J. 20016. En contra de la música. Buenos Aires: Gourmet musical.

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Ministerio de Educación. Provincia de Santa Fe. 2013. Educación secundaria, ciclo orientado, orientaciones curriculares. https://www.santafe.gov.ar/index.php/educacion/content/download/191117/931874/file/C.Orientado-Dic.2013.pdf. Accessed: 3 March 2017. Ministerio de Educación. Provincia de Santa Fe. 2014. Diseño curricular educación Se- cundaria orientada. https://www.santafe.gov.ar/index.php/educacion/content/download/218364/1135170/file/Anexo%20III%20Resol%202630-14.pdf. Accesed: 3 March 2017. Sánchez, O. 2001. Prácticas de producción en la música popular: una visión desde la semiótica de la cultura. Actas del III Congreso Latinoamericano de la Asociación In- ternacional para el Estudio de la Música Popular IASPM-AL. https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B3CBLYX406q2eGM4aGRzZEk5ZDg/view. Accessed: 12 July 2017. Williams, R. 1980. Marxismo y literatura. Barcelona: Peninsula.

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Studying listening to recorded popular music: A methodological overview and some suggestions for future research

Marta García Quiñones Independent researcher, Barcelona, Spain [email protected] It is normally taken for granted that popular music fans listen to recorded music, and that their preferences are mainly shaped by that activity. However, studying what happens while they are listening appears as a challenging task. In the last two decades music psychologists, social psychologists, sociologists and popular music scholars, among others, have proposed different qualitative research strategies to address the complexity of popular music fans’ everyday listening experiences. While these methods are normally sensitive to the diversity of listening contexts and subjective experiences, and even occasionally deal with situations where music listening happens alongside other actions (Lilliestam 2013; Kassa- bian 2013), they may also raise questions of representativeness, and do not always allow an understanding of the intersubjectivity of listening practices, and of the ways in which they may be related to musical structures. This paper reviews some of those empirical methods and aims to contribute to the design of useful research procedures.

Keywords: music listening, everyday listening, research methods, audio technologies, listening contexts

Everyday listening Popular music fans listen to recorded music in their everyday lives, and their preferences seem to be shaped by that activity at least as much as they are shaped by attending live performances. Besides, popular music fans, like anyone else, may be exposed to music in different contexts and spaces, and so they are also sometimes involuntary listeners. When music psychologists discuss everyday listening, they normally refer to listening to recorded music, often to recorded popular music of various kinds. Conversely, everyday listening constitutes the

[email protected] 92 Marta García Quiñones basis of the social impact of recordings in any form, that is as records, CDs, mp3s… be they played, broadcast or streamed. While all these explanations may sound trite, the consumption of recorded music has not received much scholarly attention, in particular from musicologists, and it has emerged as a strong topic only in this century. Though I can only mention this in passing here, there are historical reasons for this relative disinterest, for instance the identification of popular music audiences mostly with people attending live performances – in other words, the centrality of the live concert, the gig, as the main experience of rock and pop musical life. As Arild Bergh and Tia DeNora have pointed out, listening has been “frequently mistaken for, or more deliberately brushed off as, a passive activity” (Bergh and DeNora 2009: 106). On the one hand, the attention accorded to music consumption in this century could be seen as a derivation of business-led strategies aimed at identifying consumption patterns. In fact, unlike music scholars, commercial companies, media providers, and even governmental bodies have consistently been interested in gaining knowledge on people’s cultural habits, including everyday music listening, at least since the mid-twentieth century. Examples of this interest would be the quantitative surveys conducted periodically by the International Federation of Phonographic Industries (the “Digital Music Reports”, and now the “Global Music Reports” (IFPI 2017) or, in Spain, the Survey of Cultural Habits and Practices, sponsored by the national Ministry of Education and Sport (MECD 2015) On the other hand, as many authors have pointed out (for instance, Avdeef 2012), attention to everyday music listening is related to the changes in musical practices brought about by digitization, where “digitization” encompasses many different aspects, i.e. the diffusion of personal (portable, mobile) playback technologies, the ease of access and storage of compressed audio files on the Internet, and – perhaps more importantly, as Steve Jones (2011: 444) has observed – the availability of news, information and discussion about all types of music online. Here is an example of how Adrian North, David Hargreaves and Jon Hargreaves have summarized the situation:

The pace of technological change has accelerated further during the past twenty years or so, and these fundamental changes in the nature of musical experience and value have arguably become even more pronounced. Because so much of different styles and genres is now so widely available via the Walkman, music video, the In- ternet, and other media, it is arguable that people now actively use it in everyday listening contexts to a much greater extent than hitherto. They are still exposed to music in shops, restaurants, and other commercial environments without active control. But they also control its use in the home, in the car, while exercising, and in other everyday environments. [...] Music can now be seen as a resource rather than merely as a commodity (North, Hargreaves and Hargreaves 2005: 42).

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As a result of the convergence of these factors, and some others, new opportunities have been created for music fans to bring their music with them to different places, to search, store and consume familiar and novel artists, bands, genres etc, and to share these experiences with others. Thus, when we think of music listening in everyday life, this notion may include listening experiences at home, on the streets, on the beach, at the swimming pool, in the office, in the car, in the train, riding a bicycle, in a shopping mall, in an elevator… People may be exposed to music willingly or unwillingly, and they may receive it through various broadcast or playback technologies, via different types of speakers, or via head-phones or earphones. Recorded music is present in a myriad of everyday life situations, which may include both private experiences and public, collective ones, since – as David Hesmondhalgh stressed in the first chapter of Why Music Matters (2013: 1–2) – both aspects are complementary dimensions of musical experience in modern societies. Also, these situations may be considered as “episodes” rather than as “events”, since they do not always have a clear beginning and an end, and they may not conform to a pre-established structure. Understandably, one of the main approaches to contemporary forms of music listening in the everyday is the technological one, which focuses on the gadg- ets that are employed for music consumption, and on users’ relationships to them, underlining the shifts in listening practices brought about by digital audio technologies. However, discourses about these shifts must be balanced against the fact that in everyday listening new technologies often coexist with old ones, notably radio, CD-players, or even record and cassette players, especially if we think of elder adults (but not only of them). For instance, the 2016 “Share of Music” report on patterns of music consumption, published by the market company Edison Research, found that 44% of the total time that US citizens spent listening to music corresponded to radio (AM/FM) listening (Edison Research 2016). Also, we must also consider that listeners do not normally limit themselves to one single technology for habitual music listening, and that connections between different broadcast and playback technologies are nowadays being reconfigured in everyday usage. In a paper titled How Do People Really Listen to Music Today? Steffen Lepa and Ann-Kathrin Hoklas (2015) have shown that German listeners often use different sets consisting in various types of “audio sources”, “audio devices” and “audio emitters” – that is, different types of “audio repertoires” – and follow more or less conscious patterns of use. Besides, the bias of music listening studies toward digital technologies has resulted in an image of listening as a solipsistic activity, something people do on their own (mostly through headphones), though this bias is not always based on factual knowledge of users’ habitudes.

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The list of issues that we may investigate regarding music listening in everyday life is quite long, and includes not only which broadcast or playback technologies are employed, but also many other aspects that lay beyond the scope of the quantitative surveys on music consumption sponsored by commercial companies. For example, we may want to know not only who listens to music and with whom, but also when do they listen to it? Where? Doing what? If the music is chosen, not imposed, why do they listen to it? Which emotions does the music elicit in them? How do these emotions relate to previous experiences, if they do? What judgments or opinions do users have about music? Logically, these research questions have also changed through time. For instance, the notions of “uses” or “functions”, which were still going strong at the beginning of this century, have currently given way to the “emotions”, which now seem to be the main focus of the study of music listening. There is also an increasing awareness among scholars of the importance of bodily action, which may explain the occasional replacement of “listening” with the more general (and less cognitive) terms “responses”, like in the Oxford Handbook of Music Psychology (Hallam, Cross and Thaut 2009), or “musical behaviour” (Clarke, Dibben and Pitts 2010: 13). Nevertheless, in this article I will not try to answer any of those questions; I will offer instead an overview of the methods that have been used so far to study everyday listening to recorded music empirically. Among the psychologists that have done research on everyday listening to recorded music we find John Sloboda (Sloboda, O’Neill and Ivaldi 2001), Adri- an North and David Hargreaves (North, Hargreaves and Hargreaves 2004), Patrik Juslin (Juslin and Laukka 2004; Juslin, Liljeström and Västfjäll 2008), or more recently, Alinka Greasley and Alexandra Lamont (Greasley and Lamont 2011), Ruth Herbert (2011, 2012), Eric Clarke and Nicola Dibben (Clarke, Dib- ben and Pitts 2013). Sociologists like Tia DeNora (2000), Antoine Hennion (2001, 2015; Hennion, Maisonneuve and Gomart, 2000), Michael Bull (2000, 2007), or more recently Raphaël Nowak (2015), and communication studies scholars like Lepa and Hoklas (2015), among others, have also investigated on the subject. Among musicologists, I would like to bring up the names of Susan Crafts, Daniel Cavicchi and Charles Keil, who collaborated in the “Music in Daily Life” project (Crafts, Cavicchi, Keil et al. 1993), Melissa Avdeef (2012), and Thomas Bossius and Lars Lilliestam, of the Swedish “Music in People’s Lives” project (Lilliestam 2013). These scholars, and others that I might not be aware of, have used different strategies to try and bypass the difficulties involved in studying everyday listening to music. I will focus firstly on the methods proposed by social psychologists and music psychologists.

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Psychological approaches to everyday music listening Regarding music psychologists, it is important to bear in mind that everyday music listening was a marginalized, virtually non-existent subject within the framework of cognitive music psychology in the 1970s and 1980s, when listening was supposed to take place, by default, under conditions of attention. More generally, psychological experiments where a variable is manipulated independently differ greatly from everyday-life situations, where variables are too numerous and relationships among them may not always clear. With reference to this methodological problem, Clarke, Dibben and Pitts have argued:

Research in the psychology of music can seem at times to be somewhat removed from the reality of musical experience, isolating as it does particular phenomena for systematic investigation. An experiment designed to measure the emotional responses of listeners, for example, may involve participants in listening under artificial conditions rather than in the concert hall, since data gathered in the “real world” context would be affected by uncontrollable factors such as the presence of other listeners, the temperature, lighting and acoustics in the hall, and the physical distance of the listener from the performers. By controlling each of these variables in an experimental setting, researchers are able to generate data that are easier to interpret and that produce robust findings, since the range of likely explanations for the results has been reduced. In addition, the experiment can be replicated and its findings tested against other results with different listeners or different kinds of music: they are generalizable beyond the specific instance of one concert-hall setting. The findings are still relevant to real world listening, but the distractions of being in a live audience are acknowledged in the interpretation rather than the design of the experiment (Clarke, Dibben and Pitts 2010: 10 ̶ 11). While the need for experiments that are repeatable and generalizable is more than comprehensible, the authors do not clarify how these two conditions could be guaranteed in applying the results of an experiment to a real world context. On the other hand, artificial conditions in a laboratory or other experimental contexts are usually more similar to the ones that are typical of the concert hall (their chosen example) than to the great variety of everyday situations were recorded music is present. Among the methods employed by psychologists to study everyday music listening since the 1990s, we find questionnaires, which subjects normally must answer with reference to retrospective experiences; for example, the questionnaires of the Mass-Observation project, at the University of Sussex, which in 1997 were devoted to music, and in whose elaboration British music psychologist John Sloboda took part (Sloboda 2005). Other surveys were based instead on the “uses and gratifications theory”, and the subjects were asked to reflect on

[email protected] 96 Marta García Quiñones why they listened to music and which functions music fulfilled in their lives (North, Hargreaves and O’Neill 2000). Sometimes the results of these questionnaires were subject to multivariate statistical analysis. Qualitative social sciences methods, like in-depth interviews and field observation have also been employed, either alone or in conjunction with quantitative ones. Other, newer methodologies claiming greater “ecological validity” have also been brought forward. This is notably the case of the Experience Sampling Method (Larson and Csikszentmihalyi 2014), conceived in the 1980s by Hungar- ian-born psychologist Mihály Csikszentmihalyi. This method consists in sending random text messages (via pagers or mobile phones, normally) to experimental subjects, requesting them to give information and to reflect on the music that they may have been hearing or listening to when the message arrived (Greasley and Lamont 2011; Juslin, Liljeström, Västfjäll et al. 2008; North, Hargreaves and Hargreaves 2004; Sloboda, O’Neill and Ivaldi 2001). This method was initially adopted in 2001 by John Sloboda and his collaborators (Sloboda, O’Neill and Ivaldi 2001), who engaged only eight experimental subjects (staff and students in the University of Keele) for seven days, during which the subjects were paged seven times a days, that is forty nine times. The first aim of this exploratory study was to decide whether the ESM could be reliable enough to study “the functions of music in everyday life”. However, the most important study using ESM was the one conducted by Adrian North, David Hargreaves and Jon Har- greaves (North, Hargreaves and Hargreaves 2004), which engaged up to 346 participants – although almost 45% of them were university students, which raises concerns about its representativeness. Other ESM-based studies, like the one conducted by Alinka Greasley and Alexandra Lamont (2011), were less impressive in quantitative terms, but combined ESM-question-naires with in- depth post-study interviews. This allowed the authors to collect more information on the different levels of engagement to music, which was their main research focus. An interesting development of the ESM is the Day Re- construction Method proposed by Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman and his collaborators to study daily life experiences and the emotions associated with them (Kahneman, Krueger, Schkade et al. 2014). The method is described in this way:

We present a new hybrid approach, the DRM, which combines a time-use study with a technique for recovering affective experiences. DRM respondents first revive memories of the previous day by constructing a diary consisting of a sequence of episodes. Then they describe each episode by answering questions about the situation and about the feelings that they experienced, as in experience sampling. The goal is to provide an accurate picture of the experience associated with activities (e.g. commuting) and circumstances (e.g. a job with time pressure). Evoking the context of the previous day is intended to elicit specific and recent memories, thereby reduc-

[email protected] Studying listening to recorded popular music 97

ing errors and biases of recall […]. Experience sampling is the gold standard to which DRM results must be compared; the DRM is intended to reproduce the information that would be collected by probing experiences in real time. The new method is more efficient than ESM: it imposes less respondent burden; does not disrupt normal activities; and provides an assessment of contiguous episodes over a full day, rather than a sampling of moments. Finally, the DRM provides time-budget information, which is not collected effectively in experience sampling (Kahneman, Krueger, Schkade et al. 2014: 1776 ̶ 1777). The DRM has been applied to the study of everyday music listening by Swedish psychologist Marie Helsing (2012), who investigates the effects of everyday music listening in health and wellbeing. DRM is not the only method employing listening diaries; unstructured listening diaries are a common resource for practitioners of Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis, like Ruth Herbert, author of a book-length study on forms of absorption and dissociation in everyday music listening (Herbert 2011, 2012). Even if it has not been applied to research into music listening yet, another intriguing development of ESM is the Context-Aware Experience Sampling, which uses sensing technologies to automatically detect events that can trigger sampling and data collection. This method was conceived by the MIT Home of the Future Project, led by Stephen Intille at the beginning of this century (Intille, Kukla and Ma 2002), but it seems to have been abandoned. Other methodological approaches Since the 1990s music sociologists have studied listening in everyday life using such methods as questionnaires and qualitative interviews, like the ones conducted as part of the “Music in Daily Life Project”, edited by Susan Crafts, Dani- el Cavicchi and Charles Keil and published in 1993 under the title My Music: Explorations of Music in Daily Life. The case studies presented by Tia DeNora in Music in Everyday Life (2000) feature mainly women in different everyday life situations where music is present. Though DeNora conducted semistructured interviews with some of them, she combined this method with participant- observation techniques, and in some particular cases with recordings of ambient sounds and comments by the experimental subjects. As she argues elsewhere:

The great advantage of this kind of ethnographic observation is its ability to illumi- nate the nondiscursive dimensions of action (such as emotions and embodiment) – the very dimensions overlooked by survey questionnaires and quasi-formal interview techniques (and also the dimensions of human existence most closely associated with music and musical response). Because of its aims, ethnography is conducted in real time and on the social territories germane to the research subjects themselves (DeNora 2004: 46).

[email protected] 98 Marta García Quiñones

Interviews were also the core of Michael Bull’s research into the users of Walkmans (“personal stereos”) and iPods (2000, 2007), and were also gathered by the researchers of the Swedish “Music in People’s Lives” project (Lilliestam 2013), and more recently by Raphäel Nowak (2015). Yet, what researchers obtain in all these cases are obviously the words of their subjects: their statements, opinions, evaluations, memories, expressions of feelings, etc. As some of them have acknowledged, it is impossible to know to what extent people’s linguistic elaborations of their listening experiences correspond to their “real” experiences (Lilliestam 2013: 17). As Arild Bergh and Tia DeNora have observed, certain listening practices develop from the conjunction of music with other elements, creating values, meanings and emotions, and influencing tastes, moods, and generally the biographies of those involved (Bergh and DeNora 2009: 107). However, it is precisely the link between those different elements, and particularly the link between them and the music that seems to be absent in many studies. While many questionnaires include questions about the music genres to which subjects are frequently or occasionally exposed to, as Melissa Avdeeff has observed, participants must select “from a small, select, pre-determined list of genres in order to determine musical taste”, and consumer-driven genre definitions (“folk- sonomies”) are not even considered (Avdeeff 2012: 267). Thus, using a combination of surveys and interviews (1243 completed surveys and 216 interviews), from forty four different countries, and including ages from thirteen to eighty two, Avdeeff has drawn some interesting links between the use of particular playback technologies, levels of listening engagement and musical tastes, leading her to formulate a theory of contemporary musical eclecticism that goes beyond mere aesthetic taste. In my opinion, studies combining attention to music (as experienced by users) and to other aspects of everyday listening experiences, especially spaces (locations), technologies, actions or routines, and moments in time, open many possibilities for future research into this wide field; and some of the methods developed by psychologists that I have presented here are worth considering in order to accomplish this task. References Avdeef, M. 2012. Technological Engagement and Musical Eclecticism: An Examination of Contemporary Listening Practices. Participations: Journal of Audience and Recep- tion Studies 9 (2): 265–285. Bergh, A. and DeNora, T. 2009. From Wind-Up to iPod: Techno-Culture of Listening. In N. Cook, E. Clarke, D. Leech-Wilkinson and J. Rink Eds. The Cambridge Companion to Recorded Music. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 102 ̶ 115. Bull, M. ̶

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2000. Sounding Out the City: Personal Stereos and the Management of Everyday Life. Oxford: Berg Publishers. 2007. Sound Moves: iPod Culture and Urban Experience. London: Routledge. Clarke, E, Dibben, N. and Pitts, S. 2010. Music and Mind in Everyday Life. Oxford: Ox- ford University Press. Crafts, S. D, Cavicchi, D, Keil, C. et al. 1993. My Music: Explorations of Music in Daily Life. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press. DeNora, T. ̶ 2000. Music in Everyday Life. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2004. Musical Practice and Social Structure: A Toolkit. In E. Clarke and N. Cook Eds. Empirical Musicology: Aims, Methods, Prospects. New York: Oxford University Press: 35 ̶ 36. Edison Research. 2016. Share of Music: A Share of Ear Report. https://app.custom- show.com/viewer?s=g7uv3y. Accessed: 21 December 2017. Greasley, A. E. and Lamont, A. 2011. Exploring Engagement with Music in Everyday Life using Experience Sampling Methodology. Musicae Scientiae 15 (1): 45 ̶ 71. Hallam, S, Cross, I. and Thaut, M. Eds. 2009. Oxford Handbook of Music Psychology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Helsing, M. 2012. Everyday Music Listening: The importance of Individual and Situa- tional Factors for Musical Emotions and Stress Reduction. In E. Cambouropoulos, C. Tsourgas, P. Mavromatis and C. Pastiadis Eds. Proceedings of the 12th International Conference on Music Perception and Cognition (ICMPC) and the 8th Triennial Con- ference of the European Society for the Cognitive Sciences of Music (ESCOM), Thes- saloniki, Greece, 23 ̶ 28 June, 2012. http://icmpc-escom2012.web.auth.gr/?q=node/67. Accessed: 21 December 2017. Hennion, A. ̶ 2001. Music Lovers: Taste as Performance. Theory, Culture and Society 18 (5): 1 ̶ 21. 2015. The Passion for Music: A Sociology of Mediation. Farnham: Ashgate. Hennion, A, Maisonneuve, S. and Gomart, É. 2000. Figures de l’amateur. Formes, objets, pratiques de l’amour de la musique aujourd’hui. Paris: La Documentation française. Herbert, R. ̶ 2011. Everyday Music Listening: Absorption, Dissociation and Trancing. Aldershot: Ashgate. 2012. Modes of Music Listening and Modes of Subjectivity in Everyday Life. Journal of Sonic Studies 2 (1). http://journal.sonicstudies.org/vol02/nr01/a05. Accessed: 21 De- cember 2017. Hesmondhalgh, D. 2013. Why Music Matters. Oxford ̶ Hoboken, NJ: Wiley Blackwell. IFPI – International Federation of Phonographic Industries. 2017. http://www.ifpi.org/. Accessed: 21 December 2017. Intille, S, Kukla, C. and Ma, X. 2002. Eliciting User Preferences Using Image-Based Experience Sampling and Reflection. CHI’02 Extended Abstracts on Human Factors in Computing Systems. New York: ACM: 738 ̶ 739. Jones, S. 2011. Music and the Internet. In M. Consalvo and C. Ess Eds. The Handbook of Internet Studies. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley Blackwell: 440 ̶ 451.

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Juslin, P. N. and Laukka, P. 2004. Expression, Perception, and Induction of Musical Emotions: A Review and a Questionnaire Study of Everyday Listening. Journal of New Music Research 33 (3): 217 ̶ 238. Juslin, P. N, Liljeström, S, Västfjäll, D. et al. 2008. An Experience Sampling Study of Emotional Reactions to Music: Listener, Music, and Situation. Emotion 8 (5): 668 ̶ 683. Kahneman, D, Krueger, A. B, Schkade, D. et al. 2004. A Survey Method for Characteriz- ing Daily Life Experience: The Day Reconstruction Method”. Science 306 (5702): 1776 ̶ 1780. Kassabian, A. 2013. Ubiquitous Listening: Affect, Attention, and Distributed Subjectivity. Berkeley: University of California Press. Larson, R. and Csikszentmihalyi, M. 2014. The Experience Sampling Method. In M. Csikszentmihalyi Ed. Flow and the Foundations of Positive Psychology: The Collect- ed Works of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Dordrecht ̶ Heidelberg ̶ New York ̶ London: Springer: 21 ̶ 34. Lepa, S. and Hoklas, A.-K. 2015. How Do People Really Listen to Music Today? Con- ventionalities and Major Turnovers in German Audio Repertoires. Information, Com- munication and Society 18 (10): 1253 ̶ 1268. Lilliestam, L. 2013. Research on Music Listening: From Tipologies to Interviews with Real People, Volume! 10 (1). http://volume.revues.org/3733. Accessed: 21 December 2017. MECD – Ministerio de Educación, Cultura y Deporte. 2015. Encuesta de hábitos y prác- ticas culturales 2014-2015. Madrid: MECD. http://www.mecd.gob.es/da- m/jcr:ad12b73a-57c7-406c-9147-117f39a594a3/encuesta-de-habitos-y-practicas- culturales-2014-2015.pdf. Accessed: 21 December 2017. North, A. C. and Hargreaves, D. J. 2009. The Power of Music. The Psychologist 22: 1012 ̶ 1015. North, A. C, Hargreaves, D. J. and Hargreaves, J. J. 2004. Uses of Music in Everyday Life. Music Perception 22 (1): 41 ̶ 77. North, A. C, Hargreaves, D. J. and O’Neill, S. 2000. The Importance of Music to Adoles- cents. British Journal of Educational Psychology 70: 255 ̶ 272. Nowak, R. 2015. Consuming Music in the Digital Age: Technologies, Roles, and Every- day Life. Houndmills, Basingstoke̶ Hampshire, NY: Palgrave Macmillan. Sloboda, J. 2005. Everyday Uses of Music Listening: A Preliminary Study. In Exploring the Musical Mind. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 319 ̶ 332. Sloboda, J, O’Neill, S. A. and Ivaldi, A. 2001. Functions of Music in Everyday Life: An Exploratory Study Using the Experience Sampling Method. Musicae Scientiae 5 (1): 9 ̶ 32. Västfjäll, D, Juslin, P. N. and Hartig, T. 2012. Music, Subjective Wellbeing and Health: The Role of Everyday Emotions. In R. A. R. MacDonald, G. Kreuz and L. Mitchell Eds. Music, Health and Wellbeing. Oxford-New York: Oxford University Press: 405 ̶ 423.

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Pathways of pop: Arts and education policy, studieförbund and genre hierarchies

Daniel Fredriksson Dalarna University, Sound and Music Production, Falun, Sweden [email protected] Through the Swedish voluntary education organisations called studieförbund bands get access to musical education, rehearsal space, gear and gigs. It is a modest but long time funding without any demands on return. Studieförbund are considered to be one of the most important factors for the success of the Swedish music industry due to the educational role they plays for amateur musicians. As musicians gain experience they tend to “outgrow” the studieförbund. There are often no institutional aids to continue their progress, since arts policy regards pop genres to be commercial by default. Recently, former musicians and festival arrangers have developed regional coaching programs for pop bands, leaning on policies of “cultural and creative industries” instead of arts policies. Drawing on Michel de Certeau’s concept of tactic and strategies (1984), as well as Ruth Finnegan’s pathways (Finnegan 1989), this paper discusses these efforts as tactical manoeuvres by music creators as they navigate regional spaces of education, arts policies and industry strategies.

Keywords: cultural policy, genre hierarchy, studieförbund, tactics, superculture

Swedish cultural policy and genre hierarchies I grew up in the north of Sweden, playing death- and black metal during the 1990s. Through the sub-genre often called ”folk metal” I got into traditional folk music ̶ I started playing acoustic instruments and I got in touch with fiddlers and nyckelharpa players and such. This was a music genre like any other to me, but one unexpected thing happened as I gravitated towards the folk music genre: I started to get paid! The folk music organisers were supported by the Swedish system of arts funding and cultural policy. And I also realized that artists could apply for touring funds, project funds and verksamhetsbidrag ̶ funds to help us get by as musicians. This was basically unheard of in the metal scene. And

[email protected] 102 Daniel Fredriksson trough friends who played classical music, I would soon understand that they had a very different situation all together – they could actually get a steady job playing music in regional orchestras. In this context I define popular music as music that surfaced after the 1950s, which is an empirically problematic way to talk about popular music, but it is how it is used in the context of Swedish cultural policy administration and therefore the relevant definition here. When grants and project applications are evaluated there are usually a categories for classical, jazz, folk and world music, and then there is either a pop/rock category or a miscellaneous category in which most “popular” music would be included. Phonogram-funding is the funding area that is considered most friendly to popular music in Sweden: it is the funding that gives the most to different pop genres. Still statistics from 2009 says that if you apply for a rock record, you have 16% chance to get funding. If you apply with any other music, you have between 30–40% chance (Ahlbäck, Ronström, Bergström, Mörk and Parkman 2010). It is quite uncontroversial to claim that musicians in popular music genres have a much harder time to take part of the culture and arts funding than musicians in other forms of music, such as Western classical music and, to some extent jazz, folk and world music. This “genre hierarchy” is held up by the fact that Western classical music is embedded in big institutions and any efforts to disrupt status quo are usually met with public outrage. The regional music institutions are historically based in military music companies which were transformed to publicly financed orchestras and/or operas in the 1980s. The majority of the regional music institutions practice is related to classical Western music and to some extent jazz and folk music, but only very rarely popular music. But how are these genre hierarchies motivated? I have come across three main arguments in cultural policy discourse. Historically, pop music was obviously considered poorer in quality – less complex, less developed than the insti- tutioalized music, usually classical. This view, which to many would seem as elitist and ungrounded is today hard to claim, although there are political voices being raised that policy should be more geared towards nurturing “the good culture”, within example the installation of canon-lists and more focus on quality assessments from educated experts. The second argument has to do with perceived negative effects of commercialism. A national goal for culture and arts policy in Sweden was for a long time “to work against the negative effects of commercialism” (Frenander 2011: 10; Statens kulturråd 1972; Nilsson 2003: 264), and pop music was considered inherently commercial. This could lead to negative effects such as bad working conditions, sedation of the masses and, once again, poor quality through standardization (following Adorno and Hork- heimer; cf. Witkin 2003: 98). This goal was officially removed in 2009 (Prop

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2009/10:3, 2009), but the idea behind it lives on in cultural policy discourse, through the third motivation that has to do with need. Today, it is often argued that pop music does not need these funds. In one of the interviews I made for my doctoral thesis about cultural policy in the Swedish region Dalarna, the project strategist at the regions department for culture and education said the following when asked why they will not sponsor popular music to the same extent as classical, folk or jazz:

We think pop music is important too! It is a part of Dalarna’s identity, it is the music of… the young. But it’s hard to say that we should contribute economically to those who can stand on their own two feet. But we can facilitate. We can have… meetings (Project strategist 2015). This argument is repeated in my material a few times, mainly by politicians and cultural administrators. Clearly, these people have never played in a death metal band. Studieförbund and pathways So how come there are so much great rock bands from Sweden then? When talking about the reasons for the success of Swedish pop music and the idea of Sweeden as one of the greatest music export (Fleischer 2012: 153–161), usually three reasons are given: our generous welfare and unemployment system (Fleischer 2012: 356; Hallencreutz, Lundequist and Malmberg 2007: 103), the municipal music schools and our studieförbund (Hallencreutz et al. 2007: 102, Nordström 2017: 126). Folkbildning is the movement of voluntary education. The concept is connected to the bildung ideal and to the history of the Swedish welfare society and the workers movement, and is often seen as one of the cornerstones of Swedish democracy (Söderman 2007: 30). As a part of folkbildning we have something called studieförbund, which are “study organisations”, where individuals can form a group – a “study circle” – and receive a little bit of funding. Rock and pop groups often create study circles to rent a small rehearsal space, to be able to afford music gear and so on. Most studieförbund also provide lessons on guitar and other instruments, as well as organising concerts and festivals where their own acts get to play. So there is lots of support for pop musicians in the beginning – when learning their instrument and when starting their first bands. But once they take the first steps towards a professional music life, things get harder. What are your options as a musician navigating in these different musical worlds? If you are a classical musician who wants to do orchestral work, there is a clear pathway, to borrow Ruth Finnegan’s (1989) term, ahead of you. You go to music school, high school and music college. If you are talented and study

[email protected] 104 Daniel Fredriksson hard enough, there will be jobs to apply for in some of the regional orchestras when you come out on the other side. The pathways are built on educational logics first, and then cultural policy logics. This is not the case for pop music. At its core, studieförbund is about education and learning. When a musician or band gets better and more established, they tend to “outgrow” the studieförbund, and there is not really anything to pick them up. You take unpaid or poorly paid gigs, get a day job and perhaps give lessons, unless you are one of the extremely few pop musicians who “make it” commercially. So while the notion in cultural policy that popular music discourse is closely linked to market logics is correct to some extent, that market caters only to very few of the musicians.

Figure 1. Generalized pathways of classical and pop. I want to add a quick peek through another lens: Slobin’s concept of superculture, which puts the most commercially successful and medially visible strands of popular music together with large portions of Western classical music under the same supercultural umbrella (Slobin 1993: 11). This hegemonic construction where both publicly loved singers and pop bands, highly visible DJs, as well as certain composers and symphony orchestras could be considered to be a part of,

[email protected] Pathways of pop: Arts and education policy 105 can also be said to contribute to the inert pace of cultural policy change. Popular and classical are from this perspective reciprocal constituents – pop is popular only in relation to the elitism of classical music, and classical music can only be defined as free and un-commercial in relation to a commercial pop genre. Through this construct a large portion of popular music artists and groups – most, one could argue – are excluded from both commercial and cultural policy process. Towards popular music institutions In this paper I want to shine a light on publicly funded efforts of bridging part of the gap between the studieförbund and the music industry. Two initiatives are already up and running, BD-pop in the north of Sweden and Talent Coach in the south. During my doctoral period (2012–2018), I have been following the establishment of a similar regional initiative, Dalapop. Dalapop’s goal is to inhabit and bridge that “empty space” between stud- ieförbund and music industry. They want to support organisers and touring networks, contribute with money as well as equipment to create possibilities for new arenas to emerge. Artists can apply for funding for concerts, tour budgets, studio recordings and so on. They also seem to be doing lots of lobbying, such as meetings with the cultural minister and other prominent figures. I cannot at this point discuss any results of the initiative, since it is too early to tell. What I want to discuss, however, regards the funding of Dalapop, and the theoretical implications of the possibility of long-term structural change in cultural policy hierarchy. At the beginning of my research, the project leader of Dalapop was employed by the municipality of Borlänge as a culture and industry official, but had a special assignment to secure funding for the Dalapop initiative. At the end of my research, the initiative had been up and running for a few months and had a secure platform as part of the regional music institution, Music in Dalarna. When Dalapop had its opening ceremony at a café in the city “Falun”, the ribbon was cut by the head of that institution. Before this, Music in Dalarna was an institution that more or less exclusively dealt with Western classical music, so where there before was a blatant lack of popular music in the regional cultural policy in Dalarna, it would seem like there was now a better balance between the genres. However, if we look at how these organisations are financed, we find that Dalapop’s funds comes largely from the industry departments of the municipalities. So there are no regional culture and arts policy funds at work here. In their effort to secure funding, the project leaders have been hard at work selling the idea of pop as a resource for regional financial development. They cited examples of successes from the north of Sweden, where BD-pop helped a hip-hop band from the small town Jokkmokk to get millions of hits on YouTube, with a

[email protected] 106 Daniel Fredriksson song that even mentions the town’s name (Kitok – Paradise Jokkmokk: cf. https://youtu.be/_qHPnnazBZc). This was weighed against the costs of tourism and marketing, obviously showing green numbers. The project leaders of Dala- pop sold the initiative to the industry departments of the municipalities with talk about creative clusters, about market, experience industry and other terms connected with the logic of market and industry. What interests me here is: what these efforts do with pop music? On one hand, we get popular music institutions and the possibility of closing the “pathway gaps” towards classical music. On the other hand, the arguments and motivations at play here on a local policy level could potentially further cement the discursive gap between popular music and classical music on a national level by reinforcing and reproducing the idea of pop music as inherently commercial. As industry, not culture. As market, not art. When asked about this, the project leader responded:

I think we have to work… from both sides, if you understand what I mean. Sure, we see this as creative industry, because it is creative industry, while at the same time we […] are a fucking nail in the eye on the big dragons of so called “fine culture”. Lobbying the message that pop music is culture, we will have […] public finances, on equal terms (Project leader 2016). It is true that the project leaders of Dalapop during this time worked together with music industry organisations such as Svensk Live on a national level, questioning the status quo and genre hierarchies within cultural policy through a number of reports (Rutgersson, MOKS, Livemusik Sverige and Studiefrämjandet 2016; Svensk Live and Studiefrämjandet, 2017). The organisation researcher Bengt Jacobsson has described cultural policy as a paradox of fixability and changeability: things change quickly on the sur- face, the latest trend and buzzwords often comes first to cultural policy, but structures usually stay the same (Jacobsson 2014: 69). In his concept of tactics and strategy, Michel de Certaeu differs between strategy, which emanates from what he calls “place propres” – stable, long-term institutions or structures (de Certeau 1984: 117). Strategy is always long-term and slow to change – such as cultural policy. Tactics, on the other hand, is quick, flexible and poaches on the opportunities that the slowness of the strategy creates. If we look analytically at how Dalapop could establish in Dalarna’s cultural policy based music life, we see that it happened by questioning the status quo and the current order of things, what discourse theorists would call “political logics” (Glynos and Howarth 2007; Laclau and Mouffe 1985), combined with a tactical adaption to the current structures. The process echoes how other genres found artistic and cultural policy recognition, such as how jazz in the 1950s was presented as a music that was

[email protected] Pathways of pop: Arts and education policy 107 similar to classical music in its complexity and quality, while still showing that it contained something else – improvisation, freedom, youth appeal. We know that this transformation was possible partly through musical change, a process of highlighting similarity with and distinction from classical music (Arvidsson 2002). Jazz changed focus from the dance floor to the concert stage, jazz tune writers started to identify as composers etc. But it is important to point out that this gradual change also occurred from the political work of different interest organisations lobbying cultural policy makers throughout the years (Nätverket Svensk Jazz 2008), and by jazz musicians and aficionados obtaining strategic positions in cultural policy processes, such as Jan Bruer’s appointment as producer at the (now closed) national touring organisation Rikskonserter in 1971. De Certeau seems to hold the notion that tactics are nothing more than a way of “making do” and that structures never change through tactics. Then again, musical processes, as Mark Slobin (1993: 114) has pointed out, seldom allow for the kind of neat categorisations that cultural theory sometimes suggests and de Certeau has somewhat rightly been accused of an essentialist view of power dynamics (Turino 1990). In the case of Dalapop, it would certainly seem as if practices can “switch mode” from a tactical to a strategic oe in conjunction with political logics and process that stress change (Mizer 2013). I do think we can view what Dalapop and the other initiatives are doing as using the logics of industry and cultural policy, tactically, to obtain the stability of institutions. Once institutions exists, they are hard to demolish, but it is what happens next that will decide where these pathways of pop may lead. Hopefully, in my view institutions like Dalapop will not only rely on market logics, but ultimately cement pop music in these strategic “proper places” to further articulate discourses of cultural policy to those of popular music. And where, perhaps, a skilled death metal band could have the same opportunity to gain funding and work as professional musicians, as any chamber ensemble or folk music duo. Acknowledgments I want to express my sincere gratitude towards the Royal Swedish Academy of Music which supported the presentation of this conference paper at IASPM 2017 in Kassel, Germany. References Bibliography Arvidsson, A. 2002. Från dansmusik till konstnärligt uttryck: framväxten av ett jazzmusi- kaliskt fält i Umeå 1920–1960. Umeå: Dialekt-, ortnamns- och folkminnesarkivet (DAUM). Björnberg, A. and Bossius, T. Eds. 2017. Made in Sweden: Studies in Popular Music.

[email protected] 108 Daniel Fredriksson

New York : Routledge. Certeau, M. de. 1984. The Practice of Everyday Life 1. Berkeley: University of California Press. Finnegan, R. 1989. The Hidden Musicians: Music-Making in an English Town. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press. Fleischer, R. 2012. Musikens politiska ekonomi: Lagstiftningen, ljudmedierna och försva- ret av den levande musiken, 1925–2000. Stockholm: Ink. Frenander, A. 2011. Svensk kulturpolitik under 1900-talet: Kulturpolitik –vad är det? In A. Frenander Ed. Arkitekter på armlängds avstånd? Att studera kulturpolitik. Borås: Institutionen Biblioteks- och informationsvetenskap, Högskolan i Borås: 1-14. Glynos, J. and Howarth, D. 2007. Logics of Critical Explanation in Social and Political Theory. London: Routledge. Hallencreutz, D. Lundequist, P. and Malmberg, A. 2007. Populärmusik från Svedala : näringspolitiska lärdomar av det svenska musikklustrets framväxt. Stockholm: SNS förlag. Ahlbäck, S, Ronström, J, Bergström, I, Mörk, J. and Parkman, S. 2010. Folkmusikutred- ningen. http://folkmf.se/utredningen. Accessed: 10 January 2018. Jacobsson, B. 2014. Kulturpolitik : Styrning på avstånd. Lund: Studentlitteratur. Statens kulturråd. 1972. Ny kulturpolitik: [betänkande]. D. 2. Sammanfattning, Stock- holm: Kulturrådet. Laclau, E. and Mouffe, C. 1985. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy. London: Verso. Mizer, N. J. 2013. Nomadic Tactics in Post-Revenge Geek Culture. In PCA ̶ ACA 2013 National Meeting. Washington. Nilsson, S. 2003. Kulturens nya vägar : Kultur, kulturpolitik och kulturutveckling i Sverige. Malmö: Polyvalent. Nätverket Svensk Jazz. 2008. Släpp in Jazzen innanför staketet! – om Jazzmusiken och Kulturpolitiken. http://www.svenskjazz.se/sv/om-oss/vara-dokument>jazzriksda- gar>Örebro. Accessed: 10 January 2018. Prop 2009/10:3. 2009. Tid För Kultur Regeringens proposition. 1–158. Rutgersson, T, MOKS, Livemusik Sverige and Studiefrämjandet. 2016. Vi fortsätter spela pop [men vi håller på att dö]. Gävle Offset. Slobin, M. 1993. Subcultural Sounds : Micromusics of the West. Hanover, N.H.: Wesleyan University Press. Svensk Live and Studiefrämjandet. 2017. Maktens Musik, en vitbok om popmusiken och den svenska kulturpolitiken. http://www.svensklive.se/wp-content/uploads/Maktens- Musik_vitbok_180x180_sidvis.pdf. Accessed: 10 January 2018. Söderman, J. 2007. Rap(p) i käften : Hiphopmusikers konstnärliga och pedagogiska strategier. Malmö: Malmö Academy of Music, Lund University. Turino, T. 1990. Structure, Context and Strategy in Musical Ethnography. Ethnomusi- cology 34 (3): 399–412. Interviews Project strategist, Department for Culture and Education, Dalarnas läns landsting. 2015- 02-12. Interviewed by Daniel Fredriksson in Falun. Project leader, Dalapop. 2016-01-13. Interviewed by Daniel Fredriksson.

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Punk

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Golfos, punkis, alternativos, indignados: Subterranean traditions of youth in Spain, 1960 ̶ 2015

Paula Guerra, Carles Feixa Faculty of Arts and Humanities and Institute of Sociology, University of Porto, Griffith Center for Social and Cultural Research, KISMIF Project Coordinator, Portugal Department of Communication, University Pompeu Fabra, Barcelona, KISMIF Project, Spain [email protected], [email protected] This text is an attempt to review some academic work on youth cultures carried out in Spain since the transition to democracy (although some earlier work related to the subject, stemming from the late Franco period, is also brought up). The nearly 200 contributions analyzed (books, papers, theses, unpublished reports and journal texts) were grouped into different academic areas such as criminology, sociology, psychology, communication or anthropology, and theoretical trends ranging from “edifying” ecclesiastic post-war literature to the Birming- ham school, to post-subcultural studies. The works are classified into seven major periods marked by different youth styles which act as distorting mirrors of social and cultural changes that are taking place: the late Franco times (golfos and jipis), the transition to democracy (punkis and progres), the post-transition (pijos and makineros), the 1990s (okupas and pelaos), the beginning of century (fiesteros and alternativos), the Latin kings and ñetas (2005̶ 2010) and finally, in the present, the ninis and indignados. The social context, the academic framework and the main research lines for these periods are analyzed, and we also touch upon what we consider as representative of the emerging ideological, theoretical and methodological tendencies. With this, we seek to bring up the core issues relating to Spanish youth (sub)cultures, showing how their history relates to the underground social, economic and political movements, which exist in a constant feedback with the former.

Keywords: youth cultures, urban tribes, punks, youth (sub)cultures, Spain

[email protected] 112 Paula Guerra, Carles Feixa

Introduction In his article “Subterranean traditions of youth”, David Matza (1973 /1961/) proposed a model for exploring the evolution of youth lifestyles in the 20th century, taking into consideration several rebellious “youth traditions” in the cross- road of class and lifestyle: the “delinquent” proletarian tradition, the ‘radical’ student tradition, the “bohemian” middle class tradition and so on. The Birming- ham School updated this model in order to analyze the emergence of British subcultures in the 1960s and 1970s (Hall and Jefferson 1983 /1975/). The emergence of punk was a kind of hybrid synthesis of the history of the ‘subterranean traditions of youth’ in post-war Britain, mixing middle class countercultural and subcultural working class traditions (Hebdige 1981 /1979/). From this point of view, the globalization of punk in the second half of the 1970s and in the 1980s could be interpreted as a third wave in the process of hybridization of these traditions, mixing countercultures and subcultures, middle and working class, Anglo- Saxon and other local and cross-national traditions. This is the case of Spain in Francoist and post-Franco era. This text is an attempt to review academic work on youth cultures carried out in Spain since the transition to democracy (although some earlier work related to the subject stemming from the late Franco period is also discussed). The nearly 200 contributions analyzed (books, papers, theses, unpublished reports, journal texts, academic works, as well as unpublished papers and journal reports) were grouped into different academic areas such as criminology, sociology, psychology or anthropology, and theoretical trends ranging from edifying post-war literature to the Birmingham school. The works are classified in five periods marked by different youth styles that act as distorting mirrors of social and cultural changes: the late Franco period (1960 ̶ 1976), the transition to democracy (1977 ̶ 1985), the post-transition (1986 ̶ 1994), the late 1990s (1995 ̶ 1999), the new century (2000 ̶ 2004), the pre-crisis (2005 ̶ 2009) and post-crisis period (2010 ̶ 2014). The social context, the academic framework and the main lines of research for these periods are analyzed, and we also touch upon what we consider as representative of the emerging ideological, theoretical and methodological tendencies. 1. The time of gangs: Golfos and jipis (1960 ̶ 1976) Youth cultures in Spain appeared in the middle of Franco’s regime, at a stage that some people called dictablanda, soft dictatorship, a period of about two decades, from the time of the development plans (1959) to the first democratic elections (1977). From the institutional point of view, the Frente de Juventudes became Organización Juvenil Española, changing authoritarian schemes into

[email protected] Golfos, punkis, alternativos, indignados: Subterranean traditions of youth 113 more democratic models of service to youth (Sáez 1988). Academically, the social sciences were still suspected of sympathizing with democratic movements, although within the Instituto de la Juventud (Youth Institute) a modernizing tendency cropped up that eventually used the techniques of empirical sociology to promote the first youth reviews (De Miguel 1979, 2000; Martín Criado 1998). But youth culture hardly appeared in these reviews, which offered only a very general understanding of attitudes and values. In order to find references during this time to the youth styles long existing in Europe and the United States of America we have to focus on another type of work. Most are translations or adapted texts from international publications, although they are often commented upon or even censored, as happened with the Spanish version of a work about the hippies (Cartier and Naslednikov 1974). However, other studies from Spanish researchers began to appear. First, essays linked to edifying literature or criminology, usually by ecclesiastic authors interested in the negative influence of the new trends on young people’s morality and seen through the double lens of vandalism and political and cultural dissidence (López Riocerezo 1970; Trías Mercant 1967). Second, works by writers or journalists, urban chronicles about the birth of a consumption culture on the outskirts of cities (Gomis 1965; Huertas 1969), or travel books about journeys to Europe and North America, describing the author’s impressions of countercultures in a half-documentary, half-testimonial way (Carandell 1972; Mellizo 1972). Third, more academic essays, especially by authors writing about the university protests which took place in retaliation against Franco`s regime (López Aranguren 1973; Tierno Galván 1972) and some studies by young researchers, carried out as a first step in basing theories on field data (Gil Muñoz 1973; Salcedo 1974). In 1970, Father José María López Riocerezo, author of many “edifying” works for young people, published a study entitled The Worldwide Problem of Vandalism and Its Possible Solutions, in which he showed interest in a series of demonstrations of youth nonconformist, offensive trends. Although he considered Spain safe from this dangerous trend, he concluded that these trends had something to do with the transformation of a rural or agricultural society into an industrial or post-industrial society. 2. The time of tribes: Punkis and progres (1977 ̶ 1985) By the end of the 1970s, along with the transition to democracy, a new social subject appeared in the Spanish scenario, labeled very significantly ̶ tribus urbanas (urban tribes). The communication media would soon devote great attention to the phenomenon, inciting campaigns of moral panic in tandem with commercial appropriation. The institutional context of the time was characterized by the democratization of the Youth Institute and the transfer of competence on

[email protected] 114 Paula Guerra, Carles Feixa youth to local councils and autonomous communities. In nearly all fields, one of the first initiatives of organizations was to promote youth studies, nearly always through opinion reviews, brilliantly analysed and criticised by Cardús and Estruch (1984) for the Catalan case. Paradoxically, during the peak of la movida, qualitative and testimonial studies that could explain the emerging youth cultures disappeared. Only at the end of the period do some studies show a shift in interest towards young people’s cultural consumption. We can group the studies issued during this period into three fields: first, those focusing on youth countercultures in the 1970s, be it for a theoretical balance (De Miguel 1979; Moya 1983) or historical reconstruction (Racionero 1977; Vázquez Montalbán 1985). Second, studies based on quantitative methodologies start to highlight young people’s cultural consumption (Gil Calvo 1985; Gil Calvo and Menéndez 1985). The third field encompasses some proto- ethnographic studies about the phenomenon of night movidas and the emergence of urban tribes, like a pioneering article about the disco, Rock-Ola, one of the wellsprings of Madrid’s movida (Muñoz 1985), and a bachelor’s thesis about youth subcultures in an average size city, which introduced the postulates of the Birmingham School (Feixa 1985). In 1982, Isaías Díez del Río, director of a college in Madrid, published an article in the Revista de Estudios de Juventud under the title “La contracultura” (The Counterculture) although it is really about a new type of youth movement, appearing in Spain immediately after the transition to democracy, which was commonly called pasotismo. In the 1980s, the most widespread vision of youth pictured a generalized lack of interest in social problems and the loss of any form of revolutionary spirit which, according to analysts, had marked the preceding generations. In 1985, sociologists Enrique Gil Calvo and Elena Menéndez published Ocio y prácticas culturales de los jóvenes (Youth Leisure and Cultural Practices of Young People), which is part of the Youth Report in Spain, promoted by the Youth Institute on the occasion of the International Year of Youth. After a considerable amount of data, figures and graphics, the whole of Calvo and Menen- dez’s conclusions can be summarized as follows: young people in the 1980s devoted more time and money to leisure activities. Young people’s wealth and social class ensured that their leisure behavior was not homogeneous. Social structure determines an unequal leisure culture; in the end, economy determines differences in young people’s cultural behavior. The most interesting part of Calvo and Menendez’s work shows the importance of the young people’s pur- chasing power for their leisure opportunities.

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3. The time of styles: Pijos and makineros (1986 ̶ 1994) Historias del Kronen (Kronen Stories), the film by Montxo Armendáriz (1994) shows the life of a group of upper class young people (pijos), their night-time adventures, their fresh styles and their uneasy feelings about life. Other films of the same time picture the birth of other forms of youth sociability. It is the time of the socialist government in Spain, when the generations that had led the fight against Franco are settling into power and see with suspicion the apathetical and apolitical young people, and see their aesthetics and ways of living as purely commercial and consumerist. From the point of view of youth cultures, this period is characterized by three different processes: the segmentation of youth cultures into many styles that appear like a shopping catalogue; the revival of the pijo (a way to openly recover a higher class identity); spearheading the night life with the generation of a new style: the makinero (between the proliferation of new clubs, the explosion of electronic commercial music and the results of synthetic drugs). The International Year of Youth (1985) was a milestone in studies about youth in Spain. The hegemony of opinion surveys was in crisis for internal (a methodological criticism of their gaps and excesses) as well as external reasons (changes in youth policies brought about by integral planning). A certain myth about youth of the past arose: old progres (progressives), now in places of power, idealize their rebel past and criticize the young people’s lack of argument and for living under the rules of consumerism ̶ it is the hegemony of the pijo. A sociologist even suggested that the term “urban tribes” be replaced by “shopping tribes”. Among the studies about youth cultures published during this period, three groups can be discerned: first, different essays based on theoretical formulations and historical contributions (Feixa 1993; Ucelay da Cal 1987); second, a series of local and police examinations of football hooligans and skinheads (Barruti 1990; Dirección General de Policía 1993). The third group contains some ethnographic studies that question the categories in use and suggest new methodologies based mostly on life stories. Some of the thesis works here are outstanding (Adán 1992; Feixa 1989; Gamella 1989) or even international studies about punks and rastas (Sansone 1988). Outside of the academic arena, some journalist texts that contributed to the popular use of the term “urban tribes” were published. For instance, the most popular Spanish newspaper (El País) devoted several reports to the subject. 4. The time of scenes: Okupas and pelaos (1995 ̶ 1999) Taxi, one of the latest films by Carlos Saura (1999), depicted the life of a group of young pelaos who are manipulated by an extreme right-wing taxi driver. They

[email protected] 116 Paula Guerra, Carles Feixa attack immigrants and homosexuals, and they get as far as murder. Pelaos are the Spanish version of naziskins, Neo-nazi young people getting into the skinhead movement and carrying out some dramatic actions according to the Spanish press in the late 1980s. They coincide with the explosion of okupas, the Spanish version of the squatters who appeared after 1968, linked to the occupation of empty houses and to experimenting with new alternative and countercultural ways of living together. From the societal perspective, certain structural problems such as the new immigration, limited access to housing for youth, and the nocturnization of youth leisure opened spaces for renewed youth culture activities. From the media point of view this phenomenon is shown by newspapers and campaigns reflecting moral panic nearly always following the same pattern: news event – media amplification – creation of a social problem – feedback in youth cultures – fresh news event (Cohen 1980). In universities, “urban tribes” as a subject attains status and starts to be the subject of numerous publications. Among the many publications of this period, three tendencies are discerna- ble: general essays, applied reports and ethnographic studies. Some publications try to show a general view of the different urban tribes, although they are nearly always based on very limited research in terms of time and space. By chronolog- ical order of edition, we can mention the contents of the review Cuaderno de realidades sociales, devoted to urban tribes, which includes monographs, general papers and others based on local studies (Adán 1995; Delgado 1995; Donald 1995; VV.AA. 1995); a journalist essay based on an amusing musical description (Colubi 1997); an original sociological monograph about youth taste according to Bourdieu’s theories (Martínez and Pérez 1997); a pseudo-ethnographic book about several urban tribes (Aguirre and Rodríguez 1998); and finally a book based on the life stories of two punks from Catalonia and Mexico, which argued in favor of replacing the model of urban tribes with that of youth cultures (Feixa 1998). 5. The time of cybercultures: Fiesteros and alternativos (2000 ̶ 2004) With the change of millennium, Spanish youth cultures’ characteristics may be generalized from three major tendencies. First, a certain activism in the public sphere is revived and reflected in the anti-globalization movement and its cultural effects (from the singer Manu Chao’s hybrid music to a neo-hippie trend). Second, the dance culture becomes symbolized in the different expressions of the fiestero movement (the most intellectualized around festivals like Sonar, digital publications and the techno style, the most ludic around new clubs and fashion style, and the most clandestine around rave parties). Third, the Internet

[email protected] Golfos, punkis, alternativos, indignados: Subterranean traditions of youth 117 opens a space to the generation of room cultures and virtual communities that express different styles (like cyberpunks and hackers), although the use of virtual space affects all groups. The impact of the various cultures’ distinctive elements is projected into different age groups. But what is most representative of this period is the fading of boundaries between the different subcultures, and the processes of social and symbolic syncretism (“mixture and union”, using the terms of the journalistic report). The number of studies published in Spain about youth cultures has been larger during the last three years than it had been during the three past decades. We can isolate five significant tendencies in the studies published during this period. First, monographs about the two main youth groups of the previous decade (skinheads and okupas), in the form of journalist chronicles (Batista 2002; Salas 2002), militant denunciations (Ibarra 2003), applied sociological analysis (González et al. 2003) and ethnographic comparisons (Feixa, Costa and Pallarés 2002). Second, ethnographic studies about dance cultures (and their variants ̶ makinera, techno, raver and fashion) in the form of surveys on the routes of ecstacy (Gamella and Alvarez 1999); theoretical reflections about the process of globalization (Lasén and Martínez 2001); anthologies about trends in electronic music (Blánquez and Morera 2002); or journalist features about the cathedral of the techno world: the disco Florida 135 (Gistain 2001). Third, studies about the brand new social movements that characterise the emergence of alternative styles and antiglobos (Romaní and Feixa 2002). Fourth, studies on specific groups focusing on some relevant thematic aspect like music (Viñas 2001; Feixa, Saura and De Castro 2003), gender (Martínez 2002), communication (Tinat 2002, 2004), tattoos (Porzio 2002, 2004), media (Delgado 2002), graffiti (Reyes and Vigara 2002) or the history of youth cultures in the past (Cerdà and Rodríguez 1999). Fifth, in depth studies on the impact of youth cultures on young people’s daily life, or in Willis’ terms, of their “common culture” (Lasén 2000; Rodríguez, Megías and Sánchez 2002). 6. The time of Latino gangs: Latin kings and ñetas (2005 ̶ 2010) The second half of the first decade of the century is dominated by a revival of the first youth prototype studied in the 1960s: the bands. Significantly, the term “band” becomes a paradigm of a new form of youth socialization, which it is applied from now on only to young people of migrant origin and limited in most cases to the criminal side, while the term “urban tribes” is identified only with native young people; it becomes linked to fashion or disappears. The academic research is behind the media interest and often reproduces the same stereotypes, which in 2010 were transferred to the penal code. The figures of “criminal association” and “criminal group” have been introduced, with less probative guaran-

[email protected] 118 Paula Guerra, Carles Feixa tees than “illicit association”. Besides the books based on police sources (Aso- ciación de Jefes and Mandos de la Policía Local-Comunidad Valenciana 2010; Botello and Moya 2005), we can cite several studies in result from the orders of the local or regional governments, some of which with the visions more closer to the criminal perspective and others more focused on cultural and sociability dimensions (Aparicio and Tornos 2009; Feixa et al. 2006; Martínez and Cerdá 2009; Scandroglio 2009). In recent years, coinciding with the effects of the financial crisis, which dramatically impacts young people and migrants (and doubly young migrants), the so-called Latino gangs have become the protagonists of the crime news, although the magnitude of police interventions has increased, the names of the groups involved have expanded, and social rejection had become chronic before them. The Spanish media have reported extensively lurid details and images of a dozen massive police raids at major gangs, performed by different police forces, with hundreds of arrested, many of them teenagers or young, appearing always as “decommissioning”, “beheading”, “eradicating” and “dismantling” such groups (although these are quick to reunite and news almost never realize how many detainees are eventually tried and convicted). Another collateral effect of the crisis was the increase of conflicts within the so-called “Latin gangs”, the reduction of most social programs aimed at their members, and a change of the political-police discourse, going back to “zero tolerance”, considering these groups as “criminal organizations”, the end of mediation and the reinforcement of the “penal state”. In 2009 we gathered biographic narratives of migrant young people in 2009 within the framework of the project “Eumargins”, about inclusion and exclusion in seven different European cities. In 2011 we started the project “Yougang”, which had the aim of evaluating public policies on gangs in Barce- lona and Madrid. The first results revealed the stagnation of big groups that had participated in the constitution of the associations (Latin kings and Ñetas); the emergence of smaller groups, some of which presented higher doses of conflict or were linked to organized crime groups; the increase of arrests, fights, murders and convictions; and the increase of the prison population linked to these groups (Bourgois 2003; Queirolo 2012). 7. The time of social movements: Ninis and indignados (2011 ̶ 2015) After the occupation of the plazas by the 15M movement, the studies on youth cultures experienced a triple transformation. First, they have become politicized, by reconnecting the lifestyles with the forms of participation in public life, which in theory involves connecting British cultural studies with the theories about the new social movements. Second, they focus on cyberspace, by exploring the use

[email protected] Golfos, punkis, alternativos, indignados: Subterranean traditions of youth 119 of ICT by new generations and the emerging forms of activism network (Feixa 2014). Third, they have expanded themselves to areas of daily life away from the visibility and showmanship, by addressing the study of lifestyles, which are no longer strictly youth and become intergenerational. At the end of 2008 the international financial crisis exploded. Spain was one of the worst affected countries, with some social categories such as young people and immigrants being hit with special intensity (young immigrants were affected twofold). This can be summarised in two media archetypes that became research objects: on the one hand, the ni-nis (neet): young people that are supposedly not in education, employment or training: a metaphor of the dramatic consequences of unemployment. On the other hand, the indignados (indignant), young activists of the 15M movement, who in May 2011 occupied the squares of most Spanish cities protesting against the political class, opposing the image of the neet to that of yeep: the young person who is not only getting an education and is working in some sort of job (a precarious one), but also finds the time to engage in a solidarity endeavour to find a way out of this social unrest. Before the crisis exploded some voices had raised concerns about the vulnerability of large groups of young people regarding employment, education, housing and reproduction. In spite of Spain being one of the European countries with the highest rates of economic growth, the booming housing market and the high immigration rates experienced since the mid-1990s caused educational and employment conditions for young people or their access to housing with falling birth-rates. This gave rise to a generational stereotype called the mileurista (the well prepared young person who earns less than 1000 Euro per month and therefore has difficulties to emancipate from his/her parents) (Soler, Planas and Feixa 2014). On the first anniversary of the movement, 15 May 2012, which had gone back to local neighborhoods and initiatives, various studies began to appear, often conducted by young activists or participants in the protests, which addressed issues such as the role of social networks and communication technologies, new forms of political participation, cyberactivism and its connections with similar other movements, such as the Greek protests, the Arab spring and Occu- py Wall Street (Feixa et al. 2014; Fernandez-Planells, Figueras and Feixa 2014). Last but not least, a further effect of the crisis has been the sharp decline in publicly-funded youth research: at a time when it is more necessary than ever to have real data on youth development, the institutes and observatories dedicated to promoting such research have suffered well above average cuts, affecting the number of studies commissioned and publications produced.

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Final remarks Since the 1960s, the emergence of youth cultures in Spain is one of the signs of the intense transition processes within the country: the economic transition from scarcity to wealth; the social transition from a monolithic to a plural model; the political transition from dictatorship to democracy, and the cultural transition from puritanism to consumerism. This text is an attempt to review academic work on youth cultures carried out in Spain since the transition to democracy (although some earlier work related to the subject stemming from the late Franco period is also brought up). The nearly 200 contributions analyzed) were grouped into different academic areas such as criminology, sociology, psychology or anthropology, and theoretical trends ranging from edifying post-war literature to the Birmingham School. The works are classified in five periods marked by different youth styles that act as distorting mirrors of social and cultural changes: the late Franco period (1960 ̶ 1976), the transition to democracy (1977 ̶ 1985), the post-transition (1986 ̶ 1994), the late 1990s (1995 ̶ 1999), the new century (2000 ̶ 2004), the pre-crisis (2005 ̶ 2009) and post-crisis period (2010 ̶ 2014). In the approach of “The time of gangs: Golfos and jipis (1960 ̶ 1976)”, the focus on the Spanish case stems from press news, papers issued in church magazines or magazines from the regime. We stand in front of rebellions against the dictatorship, absolute power in a Spain yet remain distant from mass consumption society. Following this, between 1977 and 1985, in “The time of tribes: Punkis and progres”, in a time of transition to democracy a new social subject appeared in the Spanish scenario, significantly named, tribus urbanas (urban tribes). We can group the studies issued during this period into three fields: first, those focusing on youth countercultures in the 1970s, be it for a theoretical balance or historical reconstruction. Second, studies based on quantitative methodologies start to highlight young people’s cultural sensibilities. The third field encompasses some proto-ethnographic studies about the phenomenon of night movidas and the emergence of urban tribes (Feixa 1985). Following on this path, the next stop is “The time of styles: Pijos and makineros (1986 ̶ 1994)”. From the point of view of youth cultures, this period is characterized by three different processes: the segmentation of youth cultures into many styles that appear like a shopping catalogue; the revival of the pijo (a way to openly recover a higher class identity); spearheading the night life with the generation of a new style: the makinero (between the proliferation of new clubs, the explosion of electronic commercial music and the results of synthetic drugs). Among the studies about youth cultures published during this period, three groups can be discerned: first, different essays based on theoretical and

[email protected] Golfos, punkis, alternativos, indignados: Subterranean traditions of youth 121 historical contributions; second, a series of local and police examinations of football hooligans and skinheads. The third group contains select ethnographic studies questioning the categories deployed; suggesting new methodologies based mostly on life history approaches. The second half of the 1990s was dominated by the “Time of scenes: Okupas and pelaos (1995–1999)”. Pelaos are the Spanish version of nazi/skinheads according to the Spanish press in the late 1980s. They coincide with the explosion of okupas, the Spanish version of the squatters who appeared post 1968, linked the occupation of empty houses to experimenting with new alternative and countercultural ways of living together. From the social point of view, certain structural problems such as the new immigration, limited access to housing for youth, and the nocturnization of youth leisure open spaces for renewed youth culture activities. From a media perspective this phenomena is represented in newspapers and campaigns as reflecting moral panic following the same pattern with minimal variation: news event ̶ media amplification – creation of a social problem – feedback in youth cultures – new news event (Cohen 1980). The twenty first century brought forth the “Time of cybercultures: Fiesteros and alternativos (2000 ̶ 2004)”. With the change of millennium, Spanish youth cultures’ characteristics may be generalized from three major tendencies. First, a certain activism in the public sphere is revived and reflected in the anti- globalization movement and its cultural effects. Second, dance cultures became symbolic of the different expressions of the fiestero movement. Third, the Inter- net opened a space for generational interaction in chatroom cultures and virtual communities that express different styles (like cyberpunks and hackers), although the use of virtual space affects all groups. We can isolate five significant tendencies in the studies published during this period: monographs about the two main youth groups of the previous decade (skinheads and okupas), in the form of journalist chronicles, militant denunciations applied sociological analysis and ethnographic comparisons; ethnographic studies about dance cultures in the form of surveys on the routes of ecstasy; theoretical reflections about the process of globalization; studies about the brand new social movements that characterize the emergence of alternative styles; studies on specific groups focusing on some relevant thematic aspect like music, gender, communication, tattoos, media, graffiti or the history of youth cultures in the past; and in depth studies on the impact of youth cultures on daily life, or in Willis’ terms, of their “common culture”. The second half of the first decade of the century was dominated by a revival of the first youth prototype studied in the 1960s: the bands. But in this case what we deal with is not a local actor linked to internal migration processes, but instead a transnational actor linked to international migrations, particularly from

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America. These are the so-called “Latino bands” (although in fact their origins lie in North America). Significantly, the term “band” becomes a paradigm of a new form of youth socialization, which is presently applied to young migrant origins and limited in most cases to the criminal side, while the term “urban tribes” identifies itself only with native young people, it becomes linked to fashion or disappears. In recent years, coinciding with the dramatic effects of the financial crisis, which affects more strongly young people and migrants (and doubly young migrants), the so-called Latino gangs have become the protagonists of the crime news, although the magnitude of police interventions have spread, the names of the groups involved have expanded, and social rejection has become chronic before them. The Spanish media have reported extensively lurid details and images of a dozen massive police raids at major gangs, performed by different police forces, with hundreds of arrested, many of them teenagers or young, appearing always as “decommissioning”, “beheading”, “eradicating” and “dismantling” such groups (although these are quick to reunite and news almost never realize how many detainees are eventually tried and convicted). Besides focusing on the sort of street and square occupation of the 15M movement, the studies on youth cultures have suffered a triple transformation. First of all, they have grown in their political aspect, reconnecting the sort of lifestyle expression of previous movements with the public life – which in theoretical terms means to connect the classical cultural studies approach with new social movements. Secondly, they take their roots to cyberspace, exploring the use of ICT through younger generations in network-activism. Thirdly and lastly, they have stretched their interest towards aspects of daily life not directly contained in the visible and spectacular aspects of these phenomena: these studies approach the lifestyles associated with the cultures, which slowly become intergenerational rather than youth-centered. It is the “Time of the social movements: Ninis and Indignados” – the current time. Acknowledgements This study is part of a larger project commissioned by the Spanish Youth Insti- tute (Injuve), under the title “Youth Cultures in Spain: Urban Tribes” (Feixa et al. 2004). It has been updated under the projects KISMIF (Fondação da Ciência e da Tecnologia, Portugal, PTDC/CS-SOC/118830/2010) and TRANSGANG (HORIZON-2020, European Research Council - Advanced Grant, H2020-ERC- AdG-742705).

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Heart of glass: Gender and domination in the early days of punk in Portugal

Paula Guerra, Ana Oliveira Faculty of Arts and Humanities and Institute of Sociology, University of Porto, Griffith Center for Social and Cultural Research, KISMIF Project Coordinator, Portugal ISCTE ̶ University Institute of Lisbon, DINAMIA’CET ̶ University Institute of Lisbon, KISMIF Project, Lisbon, Portugal [email protected], [email protected] In this paper we seek to understand the emergence of youth culture in Portugal. We will focus on punk, which is particularly symbolic of the openness, cosmopolitanism, modernity and aesthetics which have continued to mark Portuguese society. Moreover, we will narrow our scope to the female experience, trying to give an adequate development of the gender differences and similarities in punk. This effort continues a line of critical review of youth (sub)cultures and music scenes outside an Anglo-Saxon context, analyzing the presupposed egalitarian and interventional ethos which emerged in punk as an aesthetic and reflexive praxis. Despite the presence of women since the beginning of punk, and the pretense of gender equality, what we could gather was the persistent denial of leading roles in punk scenes, with the few who reached them being the subject of physical and psychological violence. This “lack of women” in the framework of punk was felt as an outrage, and as a major example of male hegemony in terms of popular culture history. Seeking to explore this space of strong contradictions in punk, we analyze here ten life stories of women who lived the early beginning of punk in Portugal (from 1970 to 1980).

Keywords: punk, gender, symbolic domination, Portugal

1. Punk, gender, differences and contradictions They were not girls by themselves, they were always called “the girlfriend of...”. The machismo was reigning (Beatriz, 45 years old, Porto, Portugal).

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The main objective of this article is to understand the emergence of youth culture in Portugal, particularly what it means to be young today, especially a young woman having punk as analytical horizon. Punk is especially symbolic of the movements associated with freedom, cosmopolitanism, modernity and aesthetics (Guerra 2013b; Guerra and Bennett 2015; Guerra and Silva 2015). Thus, we assume that punk is demarcated from the classical subcultures that opposed the mainstream and commodification, in the exact measure that it has been a bench- mark of mercantile intensification, serving as a symbolic mortar for the continuous, incessant and differentiating production of objects in advanced capitalism. In Clark’s words, “having ostensibly neutralized punk, the cultural industry proved to be able to commercialize any youthful subculture” (2003: 227). It is a truly contemporary (sub)culture in the sense of contradiction, of the constant dialectic between underground and mainstream, of the possibility of incessant reinvention ̶ a clear example of hybridity and bricolage of culture (O’Connor, 2002) and hyperinflation of subcultural codes. In one of the best attempts to define punk, Laing says that “punk rock was a denial of the dominant tendencies in popular music. It contained attitudes, approaches or artifacts that had been excluded from the practice of popular music, which in the mid-1970s was more than ever dominated by a small group of multinational conglomerates and their control over the production and distribution of records”; but Laing himself considers that “internally, however, punk rock was intensely contradictory, a fact masked by the anxiety with which the media and the music industry presented it as the latest musical fashion” (Laing 1978: 124). Punk reassembles to the 1960s American garage bands movement, the 1970s New York underground scene and the London pub rock music scene. All these scenes suggest the idea of a greater intimacy between the band and the public where this subversive ethic was revived and put in clear contrast with the dominant style of music of the time, especially progressive rock, with its technical complexity and great distance between the band and the public (Bennett 2001; Laing 2015; Silva and Guerra 2015). Therefore, it was within an egalitarian and interventionist ethos that punk emerged as aesthetic and reflexive practice, defending ̶ among other banners ̶ gender equality. Although there have been women since the beginning of punk, attracted by the supposed acceptance of gender equality, what happened was that these women were denied leadership roles in the punk scene and, when they were reached, they were victims of physical and psychological violence that prevented them from sustaining that roles. This “absence of women” in the punk framework was thus felt as an outrage and one of the best examples of male hegemony in the history of popular culture, to the extent that the great difference that separates the punk subculture from the rest is the cultural production (Guerra 2015b; Redding-

[email protected] Heart of glass: Gender and domination in the early days of punk in Portugal 129 ton 2003); the previous subcultures were defined mainly by their consumption patterns (as in the case of mods and hippies). This “absence” is also felt on the realm of theory. Indeed, McRobbie (1980) made a critique to cultural studies for leaving aside the role of women in subcultures. Thus, subculture studies conveyed this masculine hegemony (McRobbie and Garber 1997), perpetuating the absence of women in punk, endowing them with subcultural invisibility and remitting them to the domestic space and subordinate status of girlfriends (Blaze 2007: 59). Thus, it becomes crucial to address and analyze the development of gender differences and similarities felt within the punk scene, represented and affirmed by women in the Portuguese case. This effort sustains and continues a line of critical analysis of young (sub)cultures and musical scenes outside an Anglo-Saxon context, analyzing the territorialization of the egalitarian and interventionist ethos that emerged in punk as aesthetic and reflexive praxis (Guerra 2015a and 2013b). Despite the presence of women since the beginning of punk and the preten- sion of gender equality in recent years, what stands out is the existence of a persistent denial of main roles in punk scenes – resulting in a kind of feminine invisibility, in which the few participant women were subjected to symbolic violence. With the objective of exploring this space of strong contradictions in punk and youth cultures, this article approaches ten Portuguese punk narratives, addressing women who, due to their age, lived the early beginning of punk in Portugal (late 1970s and the early 1980s). 2. Bikini Kills: Narratives of participation in punk Concerning the female presence in subcultures, Weller (2005) affirms that in the existent bibliographical production there is a gap with respect to the participation of women in the subcultures. In rock, male-only bands tend to preserve music as their particular domain, keeping wives and/or girlfriends apart. This situation reflects the restricted social position of women, subjected to greater domestic duties and less physical freedom, and lacking the stimulus to learn to play musical instruments, which rein- forces the issue of mostly male sexuality linked to rock (Shuker 1999). As a result, there are very few female bands in rock or female instrumentalists, and most of the artists are surrounded by traditional and stereotyped images of women. Although women have gained space in the labor market (both in music and in other fields of work), women’s creative roles are still limited and mediated by notions of male bias (McRobbie 1980). According to Shuker (1999), among the evidences of the studies of popular music and feminism are the experiences of women’s music that fought strongly against patriarchal and masculine structures. For Bayton (2004), the role of women has been much more of consumers (fans)

[email protected] 130 Paula Guerra, Ana Oliveira than producers. When they venture to produce music, they predominantly occu- py the place of vocalists, rather than instrumentalists, and within the instrumentalists, they are usually keyboardists. Methodologically, we analyzed ten in-depth interviews with ten women who are/were linked to the Portuguese punk scene in the late 1970s and early 1980s. The ten narratives considered derive from the development of the KISMIF project. 3. So pretty: Open the heart and let the revolt enter The Revolution of April 1974 in Portugal acted as a catalyst for wills, demands and demonstrations and, in this context, was favorable to the outbreak of the first punk demonstrations in Portugal. In the city of Lisbon there were small groups of young people related to the top places of the social and artistic hierarchy, who maintained systematic contacts with the international news. It was with these groups that the will to be punk was located, calling into question the commonly accepted notion that the punk movement came spontaneously from the rage of the working class against the system. An idea already advocated by Albiez (2003: 1), argues that punk started from a conception slowly constructed and developed by a heterogeneous group of radicals, art students, musicians of the working class as well as of the middle class and of journalists dissatisfied with what rock had become. In these early days of punk in Portugal, this was not a claim of classist resistance, but rather the affirmation of a more transversal change of values, involving an opening of Portuguese youth to new music, new aesthetics, new forms of sociability. Thus, it seems to be necessary to review the subcultural model developed by Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies Birmingham (CCCS), since the empirical data have shown that the complexity and fluidity of youth cultural practices can no longer be analyzed under the prism of subcultures as homogeneous units of tastes and belongings based on social classes (Guerra 2013b). We have seen, especially since the end of the 1970s, a punk efferves- cence centered on the city of Lisbon, which results from the growing openness of Portuguese society to the world, accompanied by the acceleration of globalization, the constitution of a youth market, the urbanization, the cosmopolitan mobi- lization and the timid advancement of cultural industries on the Portuguese scale. In a preliminary way, in the mid- and late 1970s, the first punk rock bands were formed in Portugal, mostly in Lisbon Metropolitan Area.

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4. Venus in fury: Representations and experiences of difference and gender in punk The first signs of punk influence in Portugal are practically contemporaneous with its emergence in the London and New York scenes. They appear in Lisbon in the late 1970s; and the whole country is still marked by the political, social and behavioral transformation triggered by the revolution of 25 April 1974. The penetration of punk happens between young people well placed in the social hierarchy and/or well integrated into the artistic spheres, and with easy access to international news. And these women are part of this group. Such women consider that the participation of Portuguese society in punk is small at this time. And it is even lower for women. However, this representation follows the one from Guerra and Quintela (2016) or Thornton (1996) according to which in many societies youth cultures have been seen as exclusively male phenomena and, for women, youth is more about practices that value the family. The first cause for the reduced participation of women in the early stages of the Portuguese punk scene focuses on reasons related to women’s role in Portu- guese society which crystallize behaviors and attitudes that prefigure women to domestic space, as girlfriend/mother/wife. Reference is also made to a greater presence of women in various professional fields, but it is emphasized that, as a rule, they do not reach the leading positions. In any case, family and school socialization for the roles of women and men continues to be a determining factor in the expectations of young people and in their construction of identity, and this is transported with great intensity to the (sub)cultural universe of punk. Redding- ton (2003, 2012) remembers the fact that many of these young women who ven- tured to the stage were treated condescendingly or reprimanded by the musical media. It is very important to note that many journalists referred to these young women through the term “punkette”, giving the impression of someone who is entering in an exclusively male territory, as the quote from one of the our interviewees: “They changed the word ‘punk rocker’ to ‘punkette’ when referred to girls. Neither of us was a ‘punkette’. They were devaluing everything, trying to divide between male punk and female punk, even though everyone was in the same scene” (Reddington, 2003: 245). We can situate here Filipa’s perspective (in the course of the text we will resort to parts of the speeches of our interviewees as a way of exemplifying certain themes; all the interviewees are named by a fictitious name and the parts used here follow the indications of the Code of Ethics of the Portuguese Association of Sociology):

When we started with The Raincoats, and we continued and we were aware of the role of women in both punk and the rest, the fact that we did it and there were other women, I thought that in the future there would be more equality in music, women

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and men doing things ̶ and this still does not happen. Of course, after that the doors opened, and punk became a thing where anyone could do those things, and the women felt that they could continue, they could get involved in more things. It also depends on the encouragement of older people in our lives, if parents encourage in certain ways, teachers, and older people around who see, I do not know, a talent or a tendency, if these people are encouraged, follow the a path to which they felt a certain enthusiasm. However, it remains the idea that we are women and thus, different (Filipa, 67 years old, London, England and Portugal). A second reason closely related to the first and hypothetically more comprehensive from the point of view of male symbolic domination in societies condenses what in the opinion of these interviewees is related to the greater presence of men in movements that imply more daring and demarcation in relation to society, catapulting the man for key roles in revolutions and leadership of more structuring social and cultural movements. There are a few reasons that Reddington (2003) refers as a cause for a forgetting of the female instrumentalists in the popular music. First, a majority of the bands did not record any music or album. Another reason is that most researchers who study rock music are men, which facilitated, in the author’s opinion, the forgetfulness of these bands and of female participation in this music scene. Finally, another reason is the fact many of these young women formed exclusively female bands that played for an almost exclusively female audience; i.e. when they avoided the masculine approval, they provoked, in a way, a worsening of the “oblivion” to which they were directed. However, despite this forgetfulness, Reddington (2012) analyzes the reasons that led so many young people to enter the musical world, reaching the conclusion that in the punk movement, most of these young people say that the reasons that led them to form bands and play music were almost accidental. Among these reasons we can refer to the ease of performing concerts and, on the other hand, a characteristic punk ethos, which led to an immense sharing of musical instruments between various bands, avoiding the need to invest in expensive equipment and in musical career, and in this way, it was possible “reject the long-term opportunity to become a musician, to use the stage as an alternative way to communicate through music” (Reddington 2003: 243).

They were always more men, because in my adolescence and adulthood, and perhaps now things are already different, but in the movements that have us impress some kind of innovation or challenge, or that imply some cleavage with what was dominant, by experience I’ve always found more men. A third order of reasons for women not participating in the punk scene lies in their difficulties/inaccessibility or withdrawal from musical learning and access/familiarization with electric musical instruments (Verónica, 55 years old, Lisbon, Portugal).

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What happened ̶ and I think it still happens now ̶ is that the bands were much more with boys. At that time, there were more boys who knew how to play and fewer girls... (Luísa, 48 years old, Lisbon, Portugal). A third reason focuses on social expectations regarding the female image and aesthetics. Thus, the social molding of the body by dominant aesthetic patterns is contrary to the feminine punk look, as it contrasts and collides with this femininity. This is not to say that the punk visual has not been shaped by the dominant logic and is today the object of a distinctive classification of positive meaning, but it was not always like that. For example, Patti Smith is today a memory of what punk offered to women ̶ permission to explore gender barriers, to investigate their own power, anger, and aggression. Patti Smith, with her androgynous image challenged the mainstream idea about femininity (Whiteley 2006), but it was a gradual process.

And, I mean, what happens at the time? I had a lot of childhood friends, all good, or right, or I do not know what. And suddenly, they see me dressed like that and what did they think? They thought that if I was dressed like this, I was completely out of my mind and I was drugging myself (Joana, 49 years old, Porto, Portugal). In an inter-related and synthesizing way, some interviewees point to the conservatism and machismo of Portuguese society as being responsible for the small female participation in punk and also for the fact that punk works itself in a con- servative and macho logic and a logic of symbolic violence and male domination extendable even to punks of both genders. That is why Reddington compares the case of young women in this music scene to Victorian novelists:

The Victorian novelists were despised and removed from their places in history by male critics who acted as guardians of literature of that time; the process in which creative women are continually replaced in a passive and decorative sphere is not something new. It seems that in a current comparison [...], once the share of female participants has been reached, the roles of young women in punk have been reduced to a sub-subculture status ̶ or, in fact, a subculturette (Reddington 2003: 249 ̶ 250).

We have always been a country that had two very strong cultural traits which are conservatism and machismo. It is a society based on man. In Portugal I think this is particularly noticeable. It is not worth going back there to the reasons of Catholi- cism or whatever. But I think that for a girl, at that point claiming herself as a punk girl, I think that in social terms it was a much more radical act than for the boy. Alt- hough for a boy it was also quite radical and could deserve to be expelled from home (Verónica, 55 years old, Lisbon, Portugal).

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5. Back to collants, chains and lipsticks: Concluding remarks We presented here narratives of Portuguese punk lovers, women who witnessed machismo and sexism in the scenes where they were inserted. These are women who were in the beginnings of Portuguese punk with different roles, but who all shared the participation as punk lovers. For these women, punk was an area of freedom, of conviviality, of openness ̶ but never an autonomous space of gender equality. They are mostly women from Lisbon ̶ the capital of the country, so they are well educated and come from high social classes. In addition, they are direct heirs of the Revolution of 25 April. The fascist dictatorship that ruled for forty years led to a deeply elitist, hierarchical and closed society, largely influenced by religion and colonial cultural tradition. Like the punk they liked, these Portuguese women were a truly outlier group of Portuguese young women and teenagers of the time. Their perspective about the country where punk came in 1977 is clearly marked by 25 April. Thus, the Revolution was important because of its impact on changing customs, values and youth consumption. But it was also important for the opening to the outside, to the foreigner, from where came winds of change in terms of music, clothes, and lifestyle. The Revolution allowed these women to reassess the place of Por- tugal in the world and their own place as young people. It is in the binomial freedom/conservatism that these women better situate the country after the Revolution and punk. On the one hand, these women represent punk as very important in terms of impact on the lifestyle and the opening of cultural, musical and artistic horizons. On the other hand, the participation of women in punk is very small and this occurs through the roles traditionally attributed to women in Portuguese society resulting from family and school socialization: mother, girlfriend and wife. The low participation of women in punk in Portugal is still due to the fact that we are facing a society that compels men to affirm and lead in the public space. The domain of women’s leadership is the private space, the house, the children, the domestic sphere. Here the Roman Catholic matrix is central and the teaching of electric music and the contact with electric instruments were totally masculine universes. The participation of women in this sphere was inconceiva- ble. In fact, the removal of women from punk is also about aesthetic and corporal reasons: society aesthetically condemns the anti-femininity present in punk. Finally, the non-participation and contestation of women in punk is also due to the conservatism and machismo of Portuguese society. In the women in analysis, participation in punk has provided them with a space of resistance and strug-

[email protected] Heart of glass: Gender and domination in the early days of punk in Portugal 135 gle and of affirmation and expressiveness of themselves in a sphere of interiority rather than exteriority. Acknowledgements “Keep It Simple, Make It Fast!” project (KISMIF) is co-financed by national funds through the Foundation for Science and Technology and the FEDER funds (through the operational program COMPETE), developed at the Institute of So- ciology of the University of Porto, in partnership with the Griffith Centre for Cultural Research of the University of Griffith and Universitat de Lleida. KISMIF also includes the Faculty of Economics and Psychology and Education- al Sciences of the University of Porto, the Faculty of Economics and the Center for Social Studies of the University of Coimbra and the Municipal Libraries of Lisbon. For further details, consult: http://www.punk.pt/pt/. References Albiez, S. 2003. Know history! John Lydon, Cultural Capital and the Prog/Punk Dialectic. Popular Music 22 (3): 357–374. Bayton, M. 2004. Women and the Electric Guitar. In S. Whiteley Ed. Sexing the Groove: Popular Music and Gender. London: Routledge: 37–49. Bennett, A. 2001. Cultures of Popular Music. Buckingham ̶ Filadélfia: Open University Press. Blaze, C. 2007. Poems on the Underground. In N. Modem Ed. Riot Grrrl. Revolution Girl Style Now! London: Black Dog Publishing: 52 ̶ 99. Clark, D. 2003. The Death and Life of Punk, the Last Subculture. In D. Muggleton and R. Weinzierl Eds. The Post-Subcultures Reader. Oxford: Berg: 223 ̶ 236. Guerra, P. ̶ 2013b. Punk, ação e contradição em Portugal: Uma aproximação às culturas juvenis contemporâneas. Revista Crítica de Ciências Sociais 102 ̶ 103: 111 ̶ 134. Ed. 2015a. More than Loud: Os mundos dentro de cada som. Porto, Edições Afrontamento. Ed. 2015b. On the Road to the American Underground. Porto, Universidade do Porto, Faculdade de Letras. Guerra, P. and Bennett, A. 2015. Never Mind the Pistols? The Legacy and Authenticity of the Sex Pistols in Portugal, Popular Music and Society 38 (4): 500 ̶ 521. Guerra, P, Moreira, T. and Silva, A. S. 2016. Estigma, experimentação e risco: A questão do álcool e das drogas na cena punk. Revista Crítica de Ciências Sociais 109: 33 ̶ 62. Guerra, P. and Silva, A. S. 2015. Music and More than Music: The Approach to Differ- ence and Identity in the Portuguese Punk. European Journal of Cultural Studies 18 (2): 207 ̶ 223. Guerra, P. and Quintela, P. 2016. Culturas urbanas e sociabilidades juvenis contemporâneas: Um (breve) roteiro teórico. Revista de Ciências Sociais, Fortaleza, 47 (1): 193 ̶ 217.

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Laing, D. ̶ 1978. Interpreting Punk Rock. Marxism Today April: 123 ̶ 132. 2015. One Chord Wonders: Power and Meaning in Punk Rock. Oakland: PM Press. McRobbie, A. 1980. Settling Accounts with Subcultures: A Feminist Critique. Screen Education 34: 37–49. McRobbie, A. and Garber, J. 1997. Girls and Subcultures. In K. Gelder and S. Thornton Eds. The Subculture Reader. London, Routledge: 112 ̶ 120. O’Connor, A. 2002. Local Scenes and Dangerous Crossroads: Punk and Theories of Cultural Hybridity. Popular Music 21 (2): 225 ̶ 237. Reddington, H. 2003. “Lady” Punks in Bands: A Subculturette? In D. Muggleton and R. Wienzierl Eds. The Post-Subcultures Reader. Oxford, Berg: 239 ̶ 251. Reddington, H. 2012. The Lost Women of Rock Music. Sheffield: Equinox. Shuker, R. 1999. Vocabulário de música pop. São Paulo: Hedra. Silva, A. S. and Guerra, P. 2015. As palavras do punk: Uma viagem fora dos trilhos pelo Portugal contemporâneo. Lisba: Alêtheia Editores. Thornton, S. 1996. Club Cultures: Music, Media and Subcultural Capital. Hannover: Wesleyan University Press. Weller, W. 2005. A presença feminina nas (sub)culturas juvenis: A arte de se tornar visível. Revista Estudos Feministas, Florianópolis 13 (1): 107 ̶ 126. Whiteley, S. 2006. Patti Smith: The Old Grey Whistle Test, BBC-2 TV, 11 May 1976. In I. Inglis Ed. Performance and Popular Music: History Place and Time. Hampshire: Ashgate: 81 ̶ 91.

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One struggle, one fight, all day, all night: Punk cartographies in the subway of São Paulo and Lisbon

Débora Gomes dos Santos, Ana Oliveira, Paula Guerra Institute of Architecture and Urbanism, University of São Paulo; University São Francisco, School of Architecture and Urbanism, São Paulo, Brazil ISCTE ̶ University Institute of Lisbon, DINAMIA’CET ̶ University Institute of Lisbon, KISMIF Project, Lisbon, Portugal Faculty of Arts and Humanities and Institute of Sociology, University of Porto, Griffith Center for Social and Cultural Research, KISMIF Project Coordinator, Portugal [email protected], [email protected], [email protected] The importance of (sub)cultures presence in specific territories or contexts is well known, and has merited relevant research. This paper focuses on the metropolitan light rail system – the subway – in their lines, entries-exit zones, and vehicles as they were appropriated by the punk movement. We will first and foremost analyze the city of São Paulo, between 1975 and 1985, key moments when both the first punk bands and the first subway lines were beginning to develop, as well as drawing parallels with the situation in Lisbon at the same time. With this approach we will attempt to resume Marc Augè’s analysis of the “non-lieu” of the city (which he did in the Paris subway for almost thirty years), in order to rebuild the spaces, borders, belonging, barriers, obstacles, protections that are included in the lyrics of São Paulo or Lisbon punk rock bands. Our goal is to understand the representations, directions, ideologies, beliefs and specific practices that manifest in punk through space. The paper will then attempt to flesh out the images of the everyday lives and invisible spaces of the city through the music production and narratives associated with these sorts of music scenes. We will attempt to show the importance of urban space and its transitions, frag- mentations and movements to the appearance of punk scenes – and likewise, will try to cast an historical and ethnographic view of the São Paulo and Lisbon “subway punks”.

Keywords: punk, subway, urban space, São Paulo, Lisbon, non-lieu

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1. “How nice it is to be punk in the city!” We are well aware of the importance of (sub)cultures manifestations’ and locali- zation in a territory or within a context. That issue will form the basis of this paper: to focus and consider the metropolitan transport on rail system – the subway system – (lines, entries-exit zones, vehicles) as an appropriation of the punk movement. More specifically in São Paulo, from 1975 to 1985, at which both the formation of the first punks bands mirrored the construction of the first city subway lines. Also, we will draw some parallels with the situation in Lisbon at the same time. With this focus, we resume the exercise of Marc Augé (1986) held in the Paris subway for almost thirty years, in order to rebuild the spaces, borders, belonging, barriers, obstacles, protections included in the lyrics of São Paulo’s and Lisbon’s punk rock bands. It is our objective to understand the representations, directions, ideologies, beliefs and specific practices central to the punk scene through such spaces. This paper attempts to recover the plasticity of this iconic music scene through its own music production and through the construction of a narrative based on everyday city movement via the subway. It is essential to consider here the illustrative impact of urban space and its transience, fragmentation and mobility on the emergence of the São Paulo and Lisbon punk scenes where we quintessentially include contemporary punk rock. We intend to reconstruct a historical and ethnographic outlook of the São Paulo and Lisbon punks, through an analysis of the songs’ lyrics and interviews. Therefore, the present paper is divided into three main sections. Firstly, we intend to introduce the both cities in the 1970s, when their complexity had begun to increase; namely through the demarcation of spaces between the central and peripheral zones which inevitably became a profoundly unequal social space. It is in this context that the punk scene appears as a response to robust social segmentation and with the intent to shock and impose itself on the world. It arises as a result of urban fragmentation and segregation and becomes a way to denounce social inequalities which reflect on the experiences and appropriations of the city. But what impact has this territorially had upon the punk scenes in São Paulo and Lisbon? The second section of this paper addresses this question. Here, we describe the locations and forms of appropriation of this demarcation on the punks in São Paulo and Lisbon. Public transport, such as the subway, stand out as a central physical and social space of this analysis. In São Paulo the development of punk style is thus associated – indelibly – to the emergence and development of the subway system. In the same way, in Lisbon the emergence of the punk scene is associated to the expansion of the city and of the metropolitan network and also to the regular use of the railway line which connects the capital

[email protected] One struggle, one fight, all day, all night: Punk cartographies in the subway 139 to Sintra. The subway stations and the surrounding areas appear as the scenarios in which the young punks use as a visual sign of such demarcations. The street and the central areas of the city became important spaces of the São Paulo and Lisbon punk scenes. The third section is based on the notion of the young punk as street guy: that is in colloquial terms, a punk, a boy from the street. The street appears thus as a primordial area not only for the punk subculture but, instead, for youth subcultures in general. It is an indelible space of interaction and a territory of urban social and cultural manifestations. 2. Punk, urban fragmentation and segregation The incorporation of the punk subculture by São Paulo and Lisbon youth at the end of the 1970s is objectively linked to a widespread pessimism about the precarious living conditions of the city that “has to stop” (this sentence belong to José Carlos de Figueiredo Ferraz, the mayor of São Paulo between 1971 and 1973 /Ferraz 1976: 4/; in contrast to the famous jargon of the 1950s “São Paulo ̶ the city that cannot stop”, by Ademar de Barros, the mayor between the years 1957 and 1961). This situation occurred simultaneously while the both cities and their metropolitan areas were being consolidated. In fact, the relationship between the origin and social experience of young people and the way they organize their identities and lifestyles was the principle focus of cultural studies, since the formation of the Birmingham Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies (CCCS). Their initial research was concerned with two main issues: to what extent the youth musical cultures express their contextual working class identities in industrial cities and services of the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s; secondly they examined to what extent songs, artifacts and collective rituals of those cultures were represented as an imaginary resistance to the prevailing social order (Hall and Jefferson 1976). Both in São Paulo and Lisbon, elements of youth took punk as an expres- sive identity form, a style to shock and to suggest their social disenchantment to the world and the cities. In this sense, we agree with Clarke’s dictum: “What makes a style is the activity of stylization – the active organization of objects with activities and outlooks, which produce an organized group-identity in the form and shape of a coherent and distinctive way of ‘being-in-the-world’” (Clarke et al. 1997: 108). Thus, a style, to express itself, requires a social arena, a cultural space to negotiate and to develop itself. As the two cities grow the more they progress, the more they become central. According to Flávio Villaça (2004: 148), the center is taken by punk as a revealing mediation of contemporary issues, as a space par excellence of other- ness, because it “implies and shows oppositions, the inside and the outside, the

[email protected] 140 Débora Gomes dos Santos, Ana Oliveira, Paula Guerra center and the periphery, the integrated in the urban society and the not integrated”, according to Henri Lefebvre (1969: 63). The song “São Paulo is gig” of Cólera (“Cholera” in English), one of the first and most important punk bands of São Paulo, alludes to the city center as a place where the meeting of the differences that characterize the urbanity is enabled. The tingling of the city that is a gig permits the madness, the mohican, the protest (Thompson 2004). Gig is used simultaneously as a metaphor alluding to the huge size of the city of São Paulo and equally as slang for parties or concerts, a term coined by jazz circuit of the1920s and later incorporated into punk vocabulary. Placed in a context of constant cultural exchanges, the punk scene emerged around the second half of the 1970s simultaneously with the United States of America and England, as an artistic uprising, especially musical, of contestation and resistance against the cultural situation of the time. With the proposal to break with the musical scene of the moment – the instrumental erudition and thematic distancing from sub-genres such as the progressive, psychedelic and folk rock; the supposed banality of commercial music, especially disco – punk promoted a return to simple musical forms and to the appreciation of the common reality of everyday life. Thus, punk brought to the center of the composition as much as sonorities of the large cities as narratives of urban daily life and transformed the music into a powerful vehicle of absorption and transmission reflecting the difficulties of city living. So we can say that punk was a landmark break and repositioning against the existing social structure with their own soundtrack, aesthetic and attitude. Punk has always been more than a simple T- shirt or a song: in our case it was an unyielding attitude challenging the status quo and it offered stark visibility to a dissatisfied and incredulous youth. Punk contains itself the impetus of return, resurrection and renewal, but it also has the impulse of the change, the inversion sound and aesthetics (Guerra 2013, 2014). In Brazil just like in Portugal, in a peripheral context of incomplete, multi- purpose and chaotic modernization, punk became more radical and developed critical political contours. Punk music has its own accent, marked by super acceleration and maximum incorporation of noise and distortion, the short duration of the songs and the general use of a darker tone. The lyrics focus politically around contextual issues such as oppression, lack of freedom, exploitation, unemployment, poverty and the boredom of life in the peripheral zones:

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Open up your eyes, Abra bem seus olhos But be careful for not to spot them with blood. Mas cuidado para não manchá-los de sangue You will see what you don’t want to see, Você vai ver o que não quer ver So do not be surprised. Por isso não se espante You will see a blind crowd Você vai ver uma multidão cega Creeping to the city, Pela cidade a se arrastar So oppressed, so massacred Tão oprimida, tão massacrada That it can’t even think. Que não consegue nem pensar No strength to fight, having to shut Sem forças pra lutar, tendo que se calar And submit, having to accept E se submeter, tendo que aceitar This submissive life, this submissive life, Essa vida submissa, essa vida submissa This submissive life which destroys us. Essa vida submissa, que nos destrói They walk without fate, Andam sem destino Weakly disorientated, Debilmente desorientados Unaware that for life Sem saber que pela vida They were badly marked. Foram duramente marcados In their homes their children Nos seus lares os seus filhos Will not know ever Não saberão jamais If not now change Que se não mudarem agora They are doomed to be like their parents. Estão condenados a serem como seus pais Table 1. Lyrics of “Vida Submissa” (“Submissive Life”), by Innocentes, from the album Miséria e Fome (Poverty and Hunger), Devil Discos, 1988. Reissue of the 1983 EP including previously censored tracks.

Through the streets of this city Pelas ruas desta cidade I see a lot of agitation. Vejo muita agitação Some live great Uns a viverem à grande And others in the rot. E outros na podridão I do not believe in government Não acredito no governo Who only knows how to deceive, Que só sabe enganar They are all a food, São todos uma resmenga They just want to trap us. Só nos querem enrabar The politicians of this country, Os políticos deste país They are not like masturbation, Não são como a masturbação They convince everyone Convencem toda gente To satisfy is not, Satisfazer é que não They are able to swear São capazes de jurar By the national flag. Pela bandeira nacional Nothing can do Nada conseguem fazer To change what's wrong, Para mudar o que está mal Nothing. Nada

Table 2. Lyrics of the song “Nada” (“Nothing”) by Tara Perdida (Lost Tare) from the album Só Não Vê Quem Não Quer (Just Does Not Dee Who Does Not Want), Música Alternativa, 1998.

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All the punk action forms are structured around what Abramo called for “appearance”, as the public display of shock and provocation signs, whose intention is to state, by its own presence, the existence and the need for attention to certain social issues: they are “spectacular groups [that] produce a critical intervention in the public space. They put together an act, they articulate a speech, with its filled figures of signs, with their movement through the city streets, with their songs” (1994: XV). Thus, through the “appearance” strategy, punk draws attention and forces society to realize and recognize issues that would otherwise be sub- merged. Through exposure in social spaces, movement, crowd, agglomeration ̶ as the center and the subway ̶ the peripheral youth intends to escape from the invisibility of youth’s liminal status. 3. Standing on the station The access to city circulation and transport has been a long standing problem in the São Paulo City Hall agenda, because of the unsustainability of increased traffic. From the mid-1950s onwards the subway installation proposal began to be discussed seriously resulting in a decision in late 1960s to make it viable transport system, beginning in earnest in the mid-1970s (Lagonegro 2004). Thus, São Paulo was the first Brazilian city to receive a subway-railroad transport system. Its first stretch was operational in 1974, seventy four years after the Metro- politan of Paris opening and almost a decade before the publication of Un Ethno- logue dans le metro (In the Metro ̶ the title in the English version used in this article), authored by French anthropologist Marc Augé (1986). The book was the result of over fifty years of Augé daily life on the subway. In this book we can find the author’s personal memories, which are marked sensorial and spatially in terms of stations, transfers, corridors and wagons:

Certain subway stations are so associated with exact moments of my life, nonethe- less, that thinking about or meeting the name prompts me to page through my memories as if they were a photo album: in a certain order, with more or less serenity, complacency, or boredom, sometimes even with heartfelt emotion ̶ the secret of these variations belonging as much to the moment of consultation as to its object (Augé 2002: 4). At first, the introduction of the subway in São Paulo did not significantly alter the city population movement dynamics, which continued to cling to bus, car and pedestrianism. However, it had the symbolic effect of propelling the city rapidly into a new technological era of efficiency in Brazil. It reinforced a specific São Paulo lifestyle: effectively modern and reflexively equivalent to those lived in the largest and most important world’s urban centres.

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Our interviews with active punks during the first years of the movement in São Paulo indicated that subway travel was not an everyday occurrence. Instead such journeys were used as an occasional weekend adventure or as some kind of an exploratory tool of the city pegged to a connection and discovery of new stops, places and different realities. Within a daily context, the closeness and the permanence of the punks around the new stations became more important than the train journeys. Thus, through the dissolution of the immediate territorialities that were created by displacement and access to multiple places, there arose new possibilities for action making the city more permeable and accessible. In the same way and as we said before, in Lisbon the development of the punk scene in the 1970s was associated to the expansion of the metropolitan network. Namely, as we could understand through our interviews with some of the first actors of the Lisbon punk scene, the construction of Alvalade station in 1972 was crucial. Alvalade is recognized as one of the first and most important poles of the punk scene in Lisbon. Many of the first punk bands, such as Ku de Judas (“Ass of Judas” in English free translation) or Censurados (“Censored”), appeared in this neighborhood. The subway was an easy and fast way to get to concert and nightlife venues, concentrated mainly in the downtown area. At the same time, it was also important the railway line which connects Lis- bon to Sintra. Sintra line, as it is known, was essential to connect another pole of the punk scene that gained prominence mainly in the 1990s and in the scope of the hardcore ̶ Linda-a-Velha, a locality belonging to the county of Oeiras, in the periphery of Lisbon. From this moment, peripheral youth were no longer confined to home districts. Instead they preferred the variety of crowds where they could simultaneously feel camouflaged while also standing out. In the surroundings of the stations, the young punks acted out roles of “regular subway travelers”, yet liked the elegance and naturalness that Augé considered qualities of the most used passenger to the dynamics and flows of the subway-railroad system (2002: 6). Thus, the punk relied heavily on the visual signification of modern urban life, whose strength is particularly felt in the new spatiality designed to assist the functional movement of people. This is an issue which sociologist Georg Simmel previously observed in the early twentieth century:

Before the development of buses, railroads and trams in the nineteenth century, people had never been in a position of having to look at one another for long minutes or even hours without speaking to one another (Simmel 2009: 573). However, it is precisely this exchange of glances that “moves away after sometimes settle for a moment” (Augé 2002: 6). This “look” was what punk’s actively sought out by adopting a public subway station as a meeting point.

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International comparisons can also be drawn to this example. In Portugal, punk began in Lisbon and it was a contemporary of the Carnation post- revolutionary society of accelerated urbanization (Guerra and Bennett 2015; Silva and Guerra 2015). In Spain, punk was a contemporary of the post-Franco democratization and the emergence of Madrid (Fouce 2004, 2006). In France, punk genesis was led by young people mostly from Paris or Lyon (Humeau 2011). In today’s Russia, the spread of punk spread out from Moscow and Len- ingrad (Pilkington 2014). Punk is both urban and suburban: it is located in territories marked by the diversity and the density of people, by the relationships and by the exchanges, and it takes place in the context of late modernity and cosmopolitanism. 4. “I’m a kid from the street” The Augé's statement that “all the people I meet there [in the subway] are the other, in the full sense of the word” is, in fact, appropriate (2002: 13). In life which passing hurried through the corridors, by the interconnections and by the subway stairs, we meet with thousands of people whose stories we do not know and we ignore in the isolation of our own issues and concerns. However, the “invasion of the under bands”, in Caiafa’s words, figured by young punks, it’s harder to ignore: the image of a skinny, pale and angular boys and their occasionally rude, loud and violent behavior; it simultaneously diverges and draws public attention. But the subway use by the punks is parasitic, because they use the inherent clusters of space to stage their show. However they rarely contribute to subway life in practical terms because they do not use it for their personal travel. The act of moving is still necessary: the route is undertaken not only as a daily necessity tied to work and leisure activities, but equally as speculative and subjective experience of the city. Their excursions and involvement within city meanderings integrate their spectacular strategy within the canvas of subway life; there is an eagerness to know new places and to overcome barriers. When exposed, the punk gains aesthetic territory and control over their adopted environment. As punk rock discourse frames the inconsistent and contradictory definitions of the term itself they are rapidly communicated in all directions, punk presence in space is total – it has a holistic character (Laing 2015). The city and its metamorphoses been significant in the research corpus of the Chicago School described as an incessant subcultural appropriation. The street, the city, the space of (un)appropriation, the place of possible existences. As noted elsewhere the Portuguese punk the life from and on the street, and the city are a matrix and central scene of existence in post war youth culture. This is captured in the song of “Opinião Pública” (“Public Opinion”) by the band enti-

[email protected] One struggle, one fight, all day, all night: Punk cartographies in the subway 145 tled Puto da Rua (“Boy from the Street”): “I’m a kid from the street, in the city sewer / Searching for the faces behind the masks” (Silva and Guerra 2015: 230). We can take the verses of this song as a poetic synthesis of the punk approach, of the punks and of their relationship and interdependence with the urban revolution, with the birth of a fragmented city and with the emergence of the subway:

I’m a kid from the street, in the city sewer, searching the faces behind the masks. I’m a kid from the street in the city sewer searching the faces behind the masks, I was a kid of the street in the city sewer searching the faces behind the masks, I think I was a kid from the street in the city sewer searching the faces behind the masks, I dream I was been a kid from the street in the city sewer searching the faces behind the masks, we were kids from the street in the city sewer searching the faces behind the masks, we will still be in the city sewer kids from the street searching the faces behind masks? I still be a kid from the street in the city sewer searching the faces behind the masks, I still have with me a kid from the street, searching my face behind the mask, we are masks that only the kids from the street can see as faces, I left from being a kid from the street in the city sewer to stay as a mask in the city as sewage, we returned to the city sewer needed to return to be a kids from the street to preserve the faces behind masks, I am while I was a kid from the street the city sewer searching the faces behind the masks, I am, hear me, see me, I am, I force you to hear me because I speak loud, I force you to see me because I shock you, I am, I am! Am I? A kid from the street in the city and metro sewer searching the faces behind the masks (Silva and Guerra 2015: 230 ̶ 231). References Bibliography Abramo, H. W. 1994. Cenas juvenis: Punks e darks no espetáculo urbano. São Paulo: Editora Página Aberta. Augé, M. 2002. In the Metro. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Caiafa, J. 1986. O movimento punk na cidade: Invasão de bandos Sub. Rio de Janeiro: Zahar. Clarke, J. et al. 1997. Subcultures, Cultures and Class. In K. Gelder and S. Thornton Eds. The Subculture Reader. London: Routledge: 100 ̶ 111. Ferraz, J. C. F. 1976. São Paulo e seu futuro: Antes que seja tarde demais. Rio de Janeiro: IBAM. Fouce, H. 2004. El punk en el ojo del huracán: De la Nueva Ola a la Movida. Revista de Estudios de Juventud 64: 57 ̶ 65. Fouce, H. 2006. El futuro ya está aquí. Madrid: Velecíoeditores. Guerra, P. ̶ 2013. Punk, ação e contradição em Portugal: Uma aproximação às culturas juvenis contemporâneas. Revista Crítica de Ciências Sociais 102 ̶ 103: 111 ̶ 134. 2014. Punk, Expectations, Breaches and Metamorphoses: Portugal, 1977 ̶ 2012. Critical Arts 28 (1): 111 ̶ 122.

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Guerra, P. and Bennett, A. 2015. Never Mind the Pistols? The Legacy and Authenticity of the Sex Pistols in Portugal. Popular Music and Society 38 (4): 500 ̶ 521. Hall, S. and Jefferson, T. 1976. Resistance through Rituals: Youth Subcultures in Post- War Britain. New York: Holmes and Meier. Humeau, P. 2011. Sociologie de l’espace punk indépendant français: Apprentissages, trajectoires et vieillissement politico-artistique. PhD. Université Picardie Jules Verne, Nantes. Lagonegro, M. A. 2004. Metrópole sem metrô. PhD. Faculdade de Arquitetura e Urbanismo da Universidade de São Paulo, São Paulo. Laing, D. 2015. One Chord Wonders: Power and Meaning in Punk Rock. Oakland: PM Press. Lefebvre, H. 1969. O direito à cidade. São Paulo: Documentos. Pilkington, H. 2014. Punk, but Not as We Know It: Rethinking Punk from a Post-Socialist Perspective. In I. Gololobov, H. Pilkington and Y. B. Steinholt Eds. Punk in Russia: Cultural Mutation from the “Useless” to the “Moronic”. London: Routledge: 1 ̶ 21. Silva, A. S. and Guerra, P. 2015. As palavras do punk. Lisbon: Alêtheia. Simmel, G. 2009. Sociology: Inquiries into the Construction of Social Forms. Leiden, Holanda: Koninklijke Brill NV. Thompson, S. 2004. Punk Productions: Unfinished State. New York: University of New York Press. Villaça, F. 2004. Elites, desigualdade e poder municipal. In C. M. Campos, L. H. Gama and V. Sacchetta Eds. São Paulo: Metrópole em trânsito: Percursos urbanos e culturais. São Paulo: Senac. Discography Cólera. 2004. Deixe a Terra em paz!. Gravadora Devil Discos. Inocentes. 1988. Miséria e fome. Devil Discos. Opinião Pública. 1981. Puto de Rua. Rossil. Tara Perdida. 1998. Só Não Vê Quem Não Quer. Música Alternativa.

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Electronic dance music

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On analyzing EDM DJ sets: Problems and perspectives for a sociology of sound

José Gálvez Humboldt University of Berlin, Department of Musicology and Media Studies, Berlin, Germany [email protected] In this paper I aim to provide an insight into an analysis of EDM DJ sets which grasps its materiality as aesthetically and socially constituted. This will be elaborated through the discussion of sociological theory, musicology and media studies. Starting from the social production of “accelerated bodies” and the somatic impact of music and focusing on media technology and DJ techniques involved in EDM DJ sets I try to grasp the value of EDM festivals for their participants. In so doing, I intend to present some problems and perspectives of music analysis for a sociology of sound sensible of the aesthetics and plural socialities of musical praxis.

Keywords: EDM, DJ sets, music analysis, sociology, materiality, aesthetics

The value of EDM festivals The Berlin DJ and label manager Oliver Koletzki does not like EDM. In the year 2015, he expressed his dislike as followed:

EDM is simply a great spectacle [...]. EDM DJs work with the simplest means. Their music consists only of breaks, everything concentrates on the drops. What disturbs me the most is the whole circus: cake battles, confetti bombs, pyrotechnics. The American music companies have discovered a few years ago that one can make a lot of money with such raves, now they organize huge events. But it is not about the music [...]. EDM doesn’t want to know how we fought here in Germany for House and Techno and how self-sufficient structures have developed from this. “Elektro” was always revolutionary, EDM is commercial (Ruzicka 2015). Koletzki does not object to electronic dance music in general, but rather to the specific pop culture phenomenon that scholars such as Robin James (2015) and

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Fabian Holt (2017) have called “EDM pop”. This is a genre complex of mainstream orientated electronic dance music, whose main figures such as David Guetta, Avicii or Steve Aoki have been successfully marketed under the label EDM by the corporate music industry. At the center of the rather heterogeneous phenomenon EDM, as Simon Reynolds rightly notes, are EDM festivals (Reyn- olds 2012). In this paper I will use the terms “EDM” and “EDM festivals” in this sense and not as an acronym referring to electronic dance music in general as it has been used in the academic research (Butler 2006: 3 ̶ 11). Apart from the bias, Koletzki rightly points to the increasing popularization of EDM festivals. Indeed, some of them have become franchises, as in the case of Ultra Music Festival, which in 2017 will have taken place in many cities worldwide including Miami, Johannesburg, Tokyo, Singapore, Split, Seoul, Rio de Janeiro and Ciudad de México. Considering the remarkably high ticket prices of EDM festivals like Electric Daisy Carnival, Ultra Music Festival, Electric Zoo or Tomorrowland and the fact, that EDM DJs are, according to Forbes Magazine, by far the highest paid DJs in the world (Greenburg 2016), it is difficult to overlook the economic success of EDM in the last years. At this point, one might ask: why are these events so attractive to so many people? Why is it worth buying such expensive tickets? And as a musicologist myself I wonder, which role music plays in EDM festivals? One can follow Koletzki and many others who claim that EDM is only about “stupid kids”, “sheer consumerism” and “superficial eventization” − and not at all about music (Troxler 2014). I do not follow Koletzki or other purists of “authentic” electronic dance music. On the contrary, I assume that EDM enables particular experiences that are valuable to many participants in these festivals. In this paper, I will focus on the vital role of music in the constitution of these experiences, which are therefore to a large extent sonically organized and constituted. Moreover, I claim that these experiences mediate social processes and can therefore have transformative potentials on subjects. Accelerated bodies In order to explain the value of EDM festivals focusing on the role of music I will follow a deductive approach. That means, I will develop a hypothesis based on existing theory, which is partly founded on empirical research. For this I bring in sociological theory. Following Michel Foucault and Pierre Bourdieu, I posit that the human body is product and producer of social reality. Social order, processes and normativity are imprinted in the body, but also enacted in bodily practices, which shape social situations and interactions (Bourdieu 2010; Foucault 1991). This can stabilize but also transform social structures and institutions (Shilling 1999). An important point here is that bodily practices are preconscious

[email protected] On analyzing EDM DJ sets 151 and so not readily amenable to conscious reflection and modification – we perform them without conscious reflection because they are “obvious” and “natural” in specific social fields (Bourdieu 1987). The German sociologist Hartmut Rosa has extensively worked on a theory of social acceleration. For Rosa, social acceleration is a key feature in the ongoing process of modernity, but also a potential social pathology. According to Rosa, social acceleration consists in technical acceleration, acceleration of social change and acceleration of the pace of life. The consequences of the vicious circle of acceleration are the erosion of institutional and political agency, economic instability, the disorientation and alienation of subjects (Rosa 2012). Fur- thermore, the philosopher and cultural theorist Byung-Chul Han claims that society is less and less governed by the logic of discipline as theorized by Fou- cault, but rather by a logic of seduction, characterized by the imperative of achievement, transparency and acceleration. Prohibition, commandments and laws are replaced by projects, initiatives and motivation. The demands of so- called “turbo capitalism” for further increase of productivity, capital flow and social acceleration give rise to what Han calls the “achievement-subject” (Han 2016: 19 ̶ 25). “Achievement-subjects” are the ideal type of subjectivity of accelerated societies as described by Rosa. Efficiency, self-optimization, fitness, multitasking as well as constant competition, deadlines, work overload, but also disorientation, depression, burnout and borderline-syndrome are some of their key aspects. Following Foucault and Bourdieu, as well as the controversial and insightful theories of Rosa and Han, one can argue that social acceleration is not only iden- tifiable on institutional, structural or symbolic levels, but also in our own bodies and bodily practices. In this sense, I introduce the notion of accelerated bodies to refer to the preconscious embodiment of social acceleration. In my research, I wonder how participants in EDM festivals might be interpreted in the context of lifestyles of accelerated bodies. But to outline the ideal type of subjectivity attending to EDM festivals does not explain what this accelerated bodies experience, how this experience is constituted and why these experiences can be valuable for them. As I stated earlier, these experiences are largely sonic mediated ones. To understand the contribution of music in processes of subjectivation within EDM festivals, we must then comprehend its materiality as live mixed music: EDM DJ sets. Sound and soma: The sonic materiality of popular music The concept of “materiality” I use is informed by musicology, sociology of music and media studies. It firstly refers to the media aesthetical dimension of popular music. As generally known, Friedrich Kittler has stated that “sound is the

[email protected] 152 José Glvez unwritable in music and is immediately its technology” (1993). Moreover, it has been argued that phonographic (re)production and transmission is an aesthetic and not only an economic element of popular music (Grossmann 2008) because the media technologies involved in the production and reproduction of (popular) music are not passive mediators but productive instances constituting the music we enjoy (Hennion and Latour 2003; Théberge 1997). For this reason, the development of technology based techniques in popular music such as crooning, over- dubbing, distortion, sampling or Auto-Tune are fundamental to the aesthetic of popular music − they represent its media aesthetical dimension. The concept of materiality I operate with refers secondly to the impact of (popular) music on the body. Popular music studies and sociology of music, unlike traditional musicology, have early recognized and theorized on the somatic impact of music (DeNora 2000; Middleton 1992). The concept of technology of articulation John Shepherd and Peter Wicke draw attention to (1997:117 ̶ 124) seems to be a productive starting point to explain the bodily and affective impact of music without falling into determinism or arbitrariness. A technology of articulation links the materiality of sounds to states of awareness, affective states and bodily practices of concrete subjects. Here sound does not refer or represent but rather mediate music experience, sense and meaning because:

[...] the experience of sound in music is based upon a dialectical interaction between sounds material characteristics and the human body as itself a material site for the mediation of cultural and subjective processes (Shepherd and Wicke 1997:147). The technology of articulation is not only constituted by the materiality of music but also by sociocultural discourses and knowledge which structure and tinge music experience and bodily practices (Wicke 2016). For this reason, bodily practices such as salsa steps, headbanging and bass drop jumps are highly con- ventionalized but contingent upon specific sound-events. In order to understand the sonic mediated experiences EDM DJ sets make possible I propose a sociology of sound of EDM DJ sets. The aim here is to address “the intersection of musical processes and processes of subjectivity” (Shepherd and Wicke 1997: 41) by exploring the media aesthetical dimension of musical processes (EDM DJ sets as sound-events constituted by media technology) in their operative relation to embodied processes of subjectivity (bodily practices of ravers as manifestations of their states of awareness and affective states). Analyzing EDM DJ sets To understand what EDM festival participants as accelerated bodies experience and how these experiences are sonically constituted I will primarily focus on technologies and mixing techniques in EDM DJ sets. Hence, my analysis is, as

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Robert Walser puts it, “inevitably reductive” (2003: 25), which makes it productive for my research question. Regarding already existing analyses of electronic dance music I identify two lacks, that my approach aims to counteract: (1) the lack of analysis dealing with sonically organized and constituted process of subjectivation, (2) the lack of analysis of DJ sets. The focus of analysis of electronic dance music has been tracks as discrete self-contained aesthetic materials. DJ sets have been relegated to qualitative research mainly focused on the DJs (But- ler 2006; Greasley and Prior 2013). From a structural perspective, the first thing one realizes is the short length of EDM DJ sets, which are normally no longer than one hour. This is clearly shorter than sets of other genres like House or Techno. Interestingly, EDM DJ sets are mixed out of much more tracks than other genres. For example, Skrillex and special guests fifty-nine-minutes set at Ultra Music Festival 2015 contains at least forty five tracks plus seven (!) stage acts (Skrillex 2015) and Dimitri Vegas and Like Mikes sixty-three-minutes set at Tomorrowland 2016 at least forty tracks (Dimitri Vegas and Like Mike 2016). This is partially a consequence of the tracks mixed in the DJ sets. EDM tracks are produced quite differently than, for example, techno tracks, because, they display a different structure and energy distribution. Ragnhild Torvanger Solberg has correctly pointed out to the relevance and power of “production techniques in the sections ʻbuild-upʼ and ʻdropʼ” (2014: 65) in current electronic dance music. Solberg argues that these production techniques are “explicitly intended to build emotional peaks, thus intensifying the clubbers’ emotional and bodily responses” (2014: 66). Robin James analysis of EDM confirms the observations of Solberg, though EDM shows a much more consequent use of this dynamic than other genres. James addresses this with the vocabulary of “soars” and “drops” (2015: 29). According to James:

EDM-pop songs score hits by soaring to climaxes or dropping to nadirs. Soars and drops are differential tactical approaches to the same underlying strategy of building and exacerbating sonic and affective tension. (James 2015: 29) The “soar [is used] as a description of the sweeping, upward/forward-moving intensificatory gesture that is common in EDM-inspired Top-40 pop” (James 2015: 29). The drop, as the reintroduction of the bass and bass drum normally after a break-down, fulfills according to James the function of “intensification of sonic energy” (2015: 36). Both the accounts of Solberg and James discuss nevertheless isolated tracks and not their sonic relations within DJ sets. These are, as a mix of tracks within the settings of EDM festivals, related to different organized states of awareness. I claim that the rhythmical and timbral “optimized sensory saturation” (James

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2015: 33) identified by James in tracks of David Guetta and Calvin Harris are intensified when being mixed in EDM DJ sets. These are not just a succession of EDM tracks or records in general, but a way of enhancing “sensory saturation”. The materiality of DJ is therefore constituted by the materiality of the tracks but also by the possibilities which technologies open in the live DJ praxis. That means, the performative structuration of EDM DJ sets. Drawing on the work of Pedro Peixoto Ferreira (2008), Mark J. Butler (2014) and Jens Gerrit Papenburg (2016), I will focus on some aspects of one fundamental technology involved in EDM DJ sets: The CDJ-2000 NXS of the Japan electronics corporation Pioneer. This professional CD player belongs to the standard equipment in EDM festivals and in clubs. The CDJ-2000 NXS (as well as its successor) offers multiple possibilities for EDM DJs to mix many audio files in such a short time, maximizing the effects of break-downs, build ups and drops. The storage of audio files, playlists and settings in USB-sticks and SD cards makes the change of tracks much easier than with turntables, dual CD players or the former models of Pioneer CDJs. Indeed, DJ equipment offers a very good example of how media technology and the musical praxis evolve in constant interaction. Moreover, the link function of the CDJ-2000 NXS allows to connect up to four CDJs making the access to and navigation through audio files and playlists very easy. The fact that most EDM DJs can play so many EDM tracks in such a short time is largely due to the affordances of the CDJ-2000NXS to search, re- trieve and play tracks and playlists. This observation alone already suggests that the bodily and affective effects of EDM tracks are intensified by their performative structuration. For about one hour, the crews get shaken-up, physically touched and overwhelmed by the constant energy fluctuation and notable discontinuity of the DJ sets. A notable example is Skrillex, who for instance, dropped the bass forty five times in his set at Ultra Music Festival 2015 (Skrillex 2015). The synchronization feature of the CDJ 2000NXS furthermore opens the possibilities for concentrating on the “drops”, “pause drops” and “double drops” without beat matching because the synchronization of two or more decks is automatic and in time. A “pause drop” is a drop precipitated by a pause, sometimes filled with low pitch vocals – thus reaching a more intensive drop sound. A “double drop” occurs when the DJ manages to get both records to reach that drop at exactly the same time – thus creating an intense mix. In addition, the synchronization feature enables to mix perfectly and quickly sections without a beat (like break-downs) or with an irregular beat or snare-drum effect (like build-ups). This would be much more difficult or even impossible without this feature. The automatic quantization is another important feature of the CDJ- 2000NXS. Tracks, loops and cues are automatically set in time. Additionally,

[email protected] On analyzing EDM DJ sets 155 with the beat effect section and loop cutter bottom, EDM DJs cut loops all the way down before dropping the bass, which is then perceived as a drum-roll- effect previous to the drop. Besides, the multiple hot cues of the CDJ-2000NXS allow EDM DJs to jump to the exactly point of the drop and generate quickly a double drop or to play a vocal or rhymical section for the build-up. The analyza- tion, quantization and representation of the tracks in waveforms makes mixing much more flexible and predictable. This is of course possible with DJ Software, but interestingly many EDM DJs mix without laptops. Finally, the direction bottom and jog wheel of the CDJ-2000NXS are used to generate a backspin effect. When the direction bottom is activated in reverse the spin back is much faster, so that the DJ speed up the record backwards and take it out with the cue bottom. This is used when mixing tracks with different speed or mixing very quickly, as is the case of EDM DJ sets. These DJing techniques are not by no means exclusive of EDM. Yet their use is systematic in EDM DJ sets, constituting therefore their materiality. The striking discontinuity and extreme energy fluctuation in EDM pop DJ sets are in this sense generated by means of breakdowns, build-ups, drum-roll-effects and bass drops. The value of EDM DJ sets for accelerated bodies As we have seen, EDM DJ sets display a specific organization of time and energy distribution which is not only contingent upon the tracks and the DJ techniques, but inscribed in the very media technology involved: in this case the Pioneer CDJ-2000NXS. This materiality is diametrically opposed to the constant repetition, gradual transitions and unnoticeable discontinuity of other genres of electronic dance music. The so-called “third record” (Butler 2006: 94; Rietveld 2011), as the integration of two tracks in the live mix is replaced in EDM DJ sets with fast and violent successions of massive sound flows developing an oscillat- ing dynamic triggered by the bass drops. Moreover, in contrast to other genres, which primarily highlight the use of bass and sub-bass spectrum, the sound of EDM extends usually over the whole hearing range encompassing treble, middle, bass and sub-bass. Furthermore, the sound of EDM comes into effect through extensive amplification and accurate directional-sound with minimized spill-over. A tactile sound is normally intended. Many companies like L-ACOUSTICS are specialized in the design of sound systems for this kind of events. The aural and tactile impact on the ravers is further visually maximized through stage concepts which include huge LED panels, lasers, fire shows, pyrotechnic and confetti exceeding so the stage shows of any world-class rock band. The materiality, bodily practices and experiences of the festival participants in EDM DJ sets are therefore organized and constituted by

[email protected] 156 José Glvez the specifically organized and structured amount of aural, tactile and visual input in minimal time with maximal intensity. I claim that this is a temporality of acceleration by means of “sensory saturation”, as stated by James. Among others Chris Christodoulou (2013) has addressed the issue of acceleration in Jungle and Drum ‘n’ Bass. Regarding accelerated bodies, one can say with Christodoulou that the temporality of EDM pop DJ sets “[n]ormalize the pathological effects of an accelerated culture” (2013: 199). Thus, social acceleration “can be temporarily managed and controlled” (2013: 204). On the other hand, Christodoulou acknowledge that dancers “negotiate the sensory overload” (2013: 209). One can argue in this sense that accelerated bodies get the possibility not only to enjoy and reinforce social acceleration, but also to negotiate it in their own bodies. This experience can therefore transform subjects, make them refract and challenge the very acceleration they have incorporated. The experiences that EDM DJ sets make possible are, so I say, precisely valuable, because they open the possibility to enjoy, reinforce and train, but also negotiate or even (temporally) suspend embodied acceleration. Politics of time and politics of pleasure are central dimension of the aesthetics of electronic dance music. Problems and perspectives for a sociology of sound The approach that I have outlined leads to some problems and perspectives. First ̶ the problems. The main problem is to grasp and theorize plausibly the transformative potential of musical experience. Another problem, or better a risk, would be to suggest a smooth parallelism between social structures and musical structures. The concept of “structural homology” has been criticized on this. Third, the tendency to a “self-fulfilling hypothesis” can also be problematic: in presupposing social processes and social constituted subjectivities like “accelerated bodies” we already frame the perspective, vocabulary and methods of the analysis. The risk is that these analyses just confirm our very presuppositions, making the argumentation circular. The perspectives are: (1) the possibility to merge social and music analysis to answer research questions with aesthetical and sociological implications; (2) to show the potentials to refract, negotiate and challenge social constituted subjectivity with and through music as sonic-event and as bodily praxis; (3) to go beyond the privileged micro-social dimensions of musical practices by addressing the function of music in subject formation regarding wider social processes such as social acceleration, racialization or gender asymmetries. Acknowledging, then, what Georgina Born calls the plural “dimensions of the social in music” (Born 2012). As a conclusion, this perspective aims to make music research sensible (again) of the wider social dimensions of musical praxis. The main conflict in

[email protected] On analyzing EDM DJ sets 157 sociology: that of integrity and integration; individual and collective; ontology and ethics, is not only reflected in our musical praxis but experienced, enjoyed, refracted, reinforced and negotiated. In this light, aesthetics are much more than just intensities or jouissance on the dancefloor, but a way of defining who we are, where we do belong and how we want to feel. The integration of wider social processes in the analysis of music as sound, then, may enrich our notions of aesthetics and the sonic materiality of EDM and popular music in general. References Bibliography Born, G. 2012. Music and the Social. In M. Clayton, T. Herbert and R. Middleton Eds. The Cultural Study of Music: A Critical Introduction. New York: Routledge: 261 ̶ 274. Bourdieu, P. ̶ 1987. Sozialer Sinn: Kritik der theoretischen Vernunft. Frankfurt a. M: Suhrkamp. 2010. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. London: Routledge. Butler, M. J. ̶ 2006. Unlocking the Groove: Rhythm, Meter, and Musical Design in Electronic Dance Music. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 2014. Playing with Something That Runs. Technology, Improvisation, and Composition in DJ and Laptop Performance. New York: Oxford University Press. Christodoulou, C. 2013. DJs and the Aesthetic of Acceleration in Drum ‘n’ Bass. In B. A. Attias, A. Gavanas and H. C. Rietveld Eds. DJ Culture in the Mix: Power, Technolo- gy, and Social Change in Electronic Dance Music. New York: Bloomsbury: 195 ̶ 217. DeNora, T. 2000. Music in Everyday Life. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Ferreira, P. P. 2008. When Sound Meets Movement: Performance in Electronic Dance Music. Leonardo Music Journal 18: 17 ̶ 20. Foucault, M. 1991. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. New York: Vintage Books. Greasley, A. E. and Prior, H. M. 2013. Mixtapes and Turntablism: DJs’ Perspectives on Musical Shape. Empirical Musicology Review 8 (1): 23 ̶ 43. Greenburg, Z. O. 2016. World’s Highest-Paid DJs: Electronic Cash Kings 2016. Forbes. https://www.forbes.com/sites/zackomalleygreenburg/2016/08/16/worlds-highest-paid- djs-electronic-cash-kings2016/#30dc299d67d7. Accessed: 22 December 2017. Grossmann, R. 2008. Die Geburt des Pop aus dem Geist der phonographischen Reproduktion. In C. Bielefeldt, U. Dahmen and R. Grossmann Eds. PopMusicology: Perspektiven der Popmusikwissenschaft. Bielefeld: transcript: 119 ̶ 134. Han, B. 2016. Müdigkeitsgesellschaft: Burnoutgesellschaft: Hoch-Zeit. Berlin: Matthes und Seitz Berlin. Hennion, A. and Latour, B. 2003. How to Make Mistakes on So Many Things at Once – and Becoming Famous For It. In H. U. Gumbrecht und M. Marrinan Eds. Mapping Benjamin: The Work of Art in the Digital Age. Stanford: Stanford University Press: 91 ̶ 97.

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Holt, F. 2017. EDM Pop: A Soft Shell Formation in a New Festival Economy. In G. St. John Ed. Weekend Societies: Electronic Dance Music Festivals and Event-Cultures. New York: Bloomsbury: 25 ̶ 43. James, R. 2015. Resilience and Melancholy: Pop Music, Feminism, Neoliberalism. Winchester: Zero Books. Kittler, F. 1993. Der Gott der Ohren. In F. Kittler Ed. Draculas Vermächtnis: Technische Schriften. Leipzig: Reclam: 130 ̶ 148. Middleton, R. 1992. Music Analysis and Musicology: Bridging the Gap. Popular Music 12 (2): 177 ̶ 190. Papenburg, J. G. 2016. Enhanced Bass: On 1970s Disco Culture’s Listening Devices. In J. G. Papenburg and H. Schulze Eds. Sound as Popular Culture: A Research Compan- ion. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press: 373 ̶ 385. Reynolds, S. 2012. How Rave Music Conquered America. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/aug/02/how-rave-music-conquered- america. Accessed: 22 December 2017. Rietveld, H. C. 2011. Disco’s Revenge: House Music’s Nomadic Memory. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 2 (1): 4–23. Rosa, H. 2012. Weltbeziehungen im Zeitalter der Beschleunigung: Umrisse einer neuen Gesellschaftskritik. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Ruzicka, M. 2015. Es geht bei Electronic Dance Music nicht um Musik. WeltN24. https://www.welt.de/kultur/pop/article144987605/Es-geht-bei-Electronic-Dance- Music-nicht-um-Musik.html. Accessed: 22 December 2017. Shepherd, J. and Wicke, P. 1997. Music and Cultural Theory. Cambridge: Polity Press. Shilling, C. 1999. Towards an Embodied Understanding of the Structure/Agency Rela- tionship. British Journal of Sociology 50: 543 ̶ 562. Solberg, R. T. 2014. “Waiting for the Bass to Drop”: Correlations between Intense Emo- tional Experiences and Production Techniques in Build-up and Drop Sections of Elec- tronic Dance Music. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 6 (1): 61 ̶ 82. Théberge, P. 1997. Any Sound You Can Imagine: Making Music/Consuming Technolo- gy. Hanover N. H: Wesleyan University Press. Troxler, S. 2014. „Die EDM-Kultur pisst mich richtig an“ — Ein Kommentar von Seth Troxler. Thump. https://thump.vice.com/de/article/kommentar-seth-troxler-die-edm- kultur-pisst-mich-richtig-an. Accessed: 22 December 2017. Walser, R. 2003. Popular Music Analysis: Ten Apothegms and Four Instances. In A. F. Moore Ed. Analyzing Popular Music. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 16 ̶ 38. Wicke, P. 2016. The Sonic: Sound Concepts of Popular Culture. In J. G. Papenburg and H. Schulze Eds. Sound as Popular Culture: A Research Companion. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press: 23 ̶ 30. Videography Skrillex. 2015. SKRILLEX LIVE @ ULTRA MUSIC FESTIVAL 2015 [Online video]. Available from. https://youtu.be/V2VmcuOEqEg. Accessed: 22 December 2017.

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Dimitri Vegas and Like Mike. 2016. Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike ̶ Live at Tomorrow- land 2016 ( FULL Mainstage Set HD) [Online video]. Available from: https://youtu.be/3UOtF4J9wpo. Accessed: 22 December 2017.

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An ethnographic investigation into the culture and people of the UK Free Party (illegal rave) scene in the twenty first century

Marianne L. Keeler University of Lincoln, School of Social & Political Sciences, Lincoln, United Kingdom [email protected] This study first reviewed the existing literature, used this to inform and shape the development of a framework for a primary research project, which collected both quantitative and qualitative data from a cohort of almost 500 respondents, and undertook an initial analysis of the data acquired. This framework had to find ways to acquire the highest quality data, from a cohort notoriously difficult to access, whilst building in safeguards and mechanisms to protect both researcher and interlocutors. The methodologies employed have begun to shape a new framework for future work with countercultural communities. Initial findings revealed a sizeable proportion of participants much older than those portrayed in subcultural studies and a larger ratio of females than ever before described. Comparisons of data were made with a range of NTE and EDM cohorts to begin exploring how the twenty first century Free Party community differs or aligns with other sections of contemporary society and why this 1990s “youth fad” has not only survived, but appears to be growing once again. This paper focuses on findings relating to gender.

Keywords: rave, Free Party, gender, women, Internet ethnography

Introduction The UK Free Party (illegal rave) scene is widely accepted to have been born at Castlemorton Common on May Bank Holiday 1992, although many similar unlicensed music parties (raves) had been taking place across the country for many years prior to this now legendary event, certainly it was as a direct result of the events following Castlemorton Festival that the “rave laws” in the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act (1994) came into being. Thus it was at this moment that such gatherings and events became illegal rather than just unlicensed, trans- © Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden GmbH, part of Springer Nature 2019 M. Dumnić Vilotijević und I. Medić (Hrsg.), Contemporary Popular Music Studies, Systematische Musikwissenschaft, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-658-25253-3_15

[email protected] 162 Marianne L. Keeler forming them from youthful exuberance causing public nuisance, to organized crime (Collin 1997; Fritz 1999; Garrett 1998; McKay 1998; Redhead 1996; St John 2009). The 1990s are widely viewed as the heyday of “raving” and at that time became a worldwide phenomenon, attracting much media coverage and considerable academic scrutiny. The huge popularity of these illegal events spawned a rash of legal EDM (electronic dance music) festivals and licensed warehouse parties, many of which, such as Tomorrowland, Boomtown Fair and Creamfields still run in some incarnation today, but have more in common with large corporate-run festivals than the “free” events from which they emerged (Bainbridge 2013; Collin 2009; O’Grady 2015; St John 2009, 2010; Thornton 1995). Almost twenty five years on, if media and academic coverage were to be taken as an indicator, the Free Party (illegal rave) scene died out with the twentieth century. However, by my own observations, I knew this to be far from the case. To provide some background and context, and to be completely open about the inevitable partialities of this work (Coates 1996: 14; McRobbie 2000: 126– 130), it is necessary to place myself, the researcher, within the work which I would describe as a feminist ethnography (Holland 2004; Jackson 1999) by vir- tue of the following. I attended my first Free Party in a field occupied by “new- age travelers”, somewhere between Sheffield and Derby in 1989. Since that time I have ebbed and flowed in and out of the scene, nowadays occupying a position on the extreme outskirts, but still in (mainly virtual) contact with, and observer of, many who are very much at its core. Having been one of the overwhelmingly outnumbered female participants in those early days, it came as no surprise to discover the female absence from the contemporary literature. However, having observed the influx of women and girls into the scene since, I was surprised to find them still absent from academic work despite a feminist critique across subcultural writing having been so prevalent (Holland 2004: 19–28; McRobbie 1991: 111–123). Thus, in accordance with Jackson’s (1999: 140) assertion that an ethnographer’s “[…] primary instrument of documentation is themselves […]” it seemed important to add my own voice to a small part of this work. This paper does not attempt to provide a detailed history of the scene, since my main purpose was to bring the topic up-to-date and contextualize it within a twenty first century socio-political landscape. I will provide a snapshot of the methodology employed and present findings relating predominantly to gender. Methodology The first stage of the project was to undertake an extensive and rigorous search of the existing literature. This involved researching not only the main topic area of Free Parties, but also to investigate multi-disciplinary contributions to the

[email protected] An ethnographic investigation into the culture of the UK Free Party 163 wider literature on EDM scenes, drug-related counter-cultures and subcultural theorising, to ensure the project was developed from a substantial foundation of knowledge. It became apparent that, not only were the ethnographic observations of the researcher regarding unrepresentative references to age and gender confirmed, but also that a substantial void existed between the 1990s and the present day across the entire subject of Free Parties. Thus, in order to commence any study of the female and ageing participants of the cohort, it would first be necessary to bring the body of data on the wider topic up-to-date. Due to the very specific nature of the subject area being researched and the plethora of ethical considerations therein (Bryman 2012: 130–154; Jupp et al. 2000: 171–173), the following key areas were identified: protecting both researcher and participants; anonymity, confidentiality and data protection; the unlawful nature of some of the activities being discussed; the possibility of disclosures regarding problematic drug use; consideration of the specific issues of ethnography; use of the relatively new territory of the Internet. Due to the multiple fields the research touched upon, guidance was drawn from across multi-disciplinary sources including criminology (Jupp et al. 2000), sociology (Bryman 2012), drug-related primary research (Measham et al. 2001; Parker et al. 1998), cultural studies (Bennett 2013; Bhardwa 2013; Critcher 2000; Garcia, 2013; Gregory 2012) and literature specifically examining and advising on online ethnography projects (Dawson 2014; Hine 2015; Holloway and Valentine 2003; Pink et al, 2015; Wiles et al. 2006). It was decided not to ask for names or pseudonyms on the survey, thus re- moving the need to anonymize responses and avoiding subsequent issues of data protection and storage (Wiles et al. 2006: 3–4). The Survey Monkey Platform allocated a number to each response to the survey, but these numbers did not correlate to those allocated in the final section which asks for email or mobile phone contact details for further research purposes; thus survey responses could not be matched to contact details. Whilst incon- venient, this was far outweighed by the benefits, assessed with reference to the “Recommendations for Researchers” section of Dawson’s paper (2014: 435). The combination of these two strategies immediately reduced levels of risk across the project, not only in terms of potential incrimination and/or legal and moral dilemmas for the researcher, but also provided a robust framework which could be communicated to those respondents who were cautious about participation due to implicating themselves in potentially unlawful activities (Jupp et al. 2000: 171–173; Wiles et al. 2006: 6–7).

[email protected] 164 Marianne L. Keeler

The chosen sampling approach was purposive as in targeted, and opportun- istic as in capitalising on the researchers connections (Bryman 2012: 418–419), mainly due to time and resource constraints (Measham et al. 2001: 65–70; Parker et al. 1998: 37–40), but also to ensure the highest quality and relevance of responses from cohorts of individuals with genuine Free Party experiences (Grego- ry 2012: 39–44; Holland 2004: 181–182), as the researchers ethnographic “insider knowledge” allowed for some verification of the respondents “credentials” (Bryman 2012: 659–661). Facilitation of this method was achieved through the researcher’s membership of several “private”, “closed” and “secret” groups on Facebook. Garcia, (2013: 11) describes this as his the development of his “trust network”, likening it to the German Kontaktpflege meaning cultivation of contacts. These groups are managed by administrators to whom requests must be sent for membership. Each request is scrutinised to ensure the credentials of the applicant before being approved. Only profiles with clear evidence of genuine Free Party connections are approved, thus reducing risk to the group of any Police or other authority being able to acquire information such as planned locations for forthcoming parties. However, membership of these groups is entirely legal and presents no moral or ethical dilemmas for a researcher. They are predominantly used as a platform to share music, buy and sell sound equipment and post photographs from parties and events. As a pre-emptive measure, the researcher e-mailed the admin of each group before posting the survey, requesting their permission to do so. This served not only as a courtesy, but also as a means to have the legitimacy of the researcher and the survey confirmed by admins prior to posting, which ensured group members who were concerned about its provenance could be reassured by admins that checks had taken place (Hine 2015: 57; Gregory 2012: 39; Garcia 2013: 11–12). It was acknowledged that the ethnographic nature of the researcher’s relationship to the group members, familiarity with the groups and self-declared former participation in Free Parties came with both benefits and risks (Bhardwa 2013: 43; Holloway and Valentine 2003: 1, 72–98; O’Grady 2013: 3; Pink et al. 2015: 1–14). This risk was minimised in a number of ways. Firstly, all survey responses were submitted direct to the password protected Survey Monkey platform, not to the researcher’s Facebook account, thus all communication was via the survey and not on a one-to-one basis. In addition, it was not possible for the researcher to identify any respondents who may be known “in real life” due to the anonymisation of the responses. And finally, since all communication was facilitated via the survey platform, every word was open to scrutiny by the academic supervisor or ethics committee on request (Bryman 2012: 148–149).

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The survey was launched on the Survey Monkey website and advertised on the private/closed Facebook groups discussed on 24 November 2015 and allowed to run for three months, to 24 January 2016, at which point it was closed having received a total of 498 responses, which was considered to be a sufficient sample for reliability and representativeness of the data. Initial basic findings were analysed using the basic functions available on the Survey Monkey platform. The qualitative data acquired in the text answer sections was then categorised for coding purposes and finally all data was in- putted onto SPSS for more detailed analysis. Gender A short summary of the findings The participation of women in the UK Free Party scene, has, as discussed in the review of the literature, been largely undocumented. With the exception of Thornton’s (1995: 100–101) “raving Sharons and Techno Traceys” of clubbing scenes, the presence of females in dance music-related subcultures has until recently been, at best, overlooked. What is clear from this study is that almost of quarter of those surveyed were female, which represents a not insignificant proportion of the total cohort, which was an adequate size for representativeness and thus, generalisation. What is not clear, however, is whether this figure shows a recent change in the gender demographic of the scene; or whether this ratio has been fairly consistent since the 1990s, as there does not appear to be any data or record of this information until now. Anecdotally, it has been reported that more women and girls are now attending, but this is difficult to corroborate since even inscrutable photographic evidence is scarce due to the illegal nature of the activity. However, industry sources and academics studying the mainstream Night Time Economy (NTE), which incorporates pubs, bars and clubbing, have reported an increase in female participation over the last three decades, citing emancipating societal factors such as increased numbers of women in employment, changing attitudes which have led to girls and women being less confined to home and having more financial freedom, which impact upon both NTE and Free Party cohorts as the main drivers of this increase (Bromley et al. 2003; Roberts and Turner 2005; Schwanen et al. 2012; Willson 2013). Certainly, the NTE generally experiences a reported 2:1 ratio of male to female participants (Carlsberg 2014; Measham et al. 2011; TBR 2011) which is not hugely dissimilar to the one quarter of females in this study cohort – approximately 33% and 24% respectively. However, according to Festival Insights, the industry periodical, its 2013 research indicated that the festival circuit enjoys a

[email protected] 166 Marianne L. Keeler roughly 50/50 balance of males to females, which clearly suggests a need for further investigation to establish the factors determining such sizeable disparities across the range of music-related venues and activities (Festival Insights 2013). NTE literature (Measham et al. 2011; Willson 2013) suggests that disparities could be attributed to perceptions of risk to personal safety, which tends to be more prevalent amongst women and as such could be a contributory factor in the case of Free Parties: “[…] discourses of fear of crime prohibit women more than men from going out […]” (Schwanen et al. 2012: 4). Turning to the study, the data was input to SPSS to facilitate analysis and a number of interesting patterns and trends emerged. There were virtually no differences across the data between men and women in respect of the age at which they started attending Free Parties. Perhaps most surprising was a similar proportion of women surveyed starting at under 16, at which time it is not unreasonable to expect that girls have more parental control exercised over them than boys. Cross-tabulation of current age and gender variables revealed that the only age group showing significant disparity was in the over-50s cohort, but this requires further investigation due to the small sample size (16/498) of over-50s surveyed. Similar response patterns also occurred in cross tabulation of preference of in- door/outdoor venue variables, preference of legal/illegal events and the reasons given for these preferences, across both genders. However, when gender and role variables were cross-tabulated, a marked difference between the genders emerged. Only 10% of females indicated they had a significant role such as rig owner, DJ or MC compared with over 50% of males. NTE and festival data shows close similarities to this trend regarding women in DJ, artist or director/management roles in the music industry, with EDM events being cited as among the main offenders when it comes to male- dominant line-ups – as few as 3% female DJs at some major events (Festival Insights 2014; Vice 2014).

We have looked into statistics regarding festival line-ups, record label releases and the appearance of women in several top 100 lists. Nowadays, a 10% proportion of female artists can be considered above average (Liecht 2013). The final cross-tabulation of gender variables was with Question 9 responses which asked about reasons why participants had stopped attending for periods of more than six months. Across the board there was no more than a 2% difference in selections between males and females. The sample size was considered sufficient to be reliable, with approximately 50% of the whole cohort providing at least one response. The text data was coded (cf. Methodology) into topics. The researcher noted that the category ‘Family and Relationships’ showed little disparity between male and female respondents, which was surprising and also not

[email protected] An ethnographic investigation into the culture of the UK Free Party 167 consistent with findings in Measham et al. (2011) study of the NTE, drug and alcohol use in relation to life transitions such as pregnancy and parenting. Within the qualitative data, more males referred to girlfriends stopping them attending than vice versa and a fairly equal ratio of male/female respondents mentioned pregnancy/parenting specifically. Clearly this suggests the need for further research in this area in order to establish whether male and/or female Free Party participants are more likely to cease “partying” due to pregnancy and childcare matters, than the general population. On the whole, with the exception of those variables discussed above, the data collected from Free Party participants tended to correlate with data from the general population and the most similar other environments and events available for comparison. This suggests that societal norms relating to gender are largely the same within this countercultural community as in mainstream communities. Conclusion It would be fair to say that the main conclusion of the overall study is that what has been covered thus far is just the tip of the iceberg and in many respects there is now more to be researched than there was before this project started. The main aims of the study, which were to create an up-to-date dataset of the scene, evidence participation of women and older individuals, and begin to identify key themes, have all been achieved. A new framework for future study of this uniquely challenging cohort has begun to emerge from this project and further development based on the methodological considerations discussed would assist in the wider study of music and drug-related countercultures. This research has demonstrated that women represent almost a quarter of those participating, whilst less than 25% of the cohort were in the 16 ̶ 20 age group ̶ both statistics illustrating that previous studies, including subcultural writing on the scene, was unrepresentative of the true, the twenty first century demographic. In terms of additional study around women and the Free Party scene, the key questions which have emerged revolve around women’s bodies and identities. For example, the apparent absence of women in the older age groups, the possible impacts of reproduction and scrutiny, as well as why so few women identified themselves as holding significant roles within the scene. It is my intention to take these questions forward to future projects. References Bainbridge, L. 2013. Acid House: The True Story. London: Omnibus Press. Bennett, A. 2013. Music, Style and Aging: Growing Old Disgracefully? Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

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Bhardwa, B. 2013. Alone, Asian and Female: The Unspoken Challenges of Conducting Fieldwork in Dance Settings. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 5 (1): 39–60. Bromley, R. D. F, Tallon, A. R. and Thomas C. J. 2003. Disaggregating the Space-Time Layers of City-Centre Activities and Their Users. Environment and Planning A: Economy and Space 35 1831–1851. Bryman, A. 2012. Social Research Methods. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Carlsberg. 2014. Carlsberg UK Consumer Insight Report. http://www.carlsbergwedelivermore.co.uk/uploads/e2e5e920-d615-3164-e5e1- b022e0b2af97.pdf. Accessed: 15 April 2016. Coates, J. 1996. Women Talk: Conversations between women friends. Oxford: Blackwell. Collin, M. ̶ 1997. Altered State. London: Serpents Tail. 2009. Altered State: The Story of Ecstasy Culture and Acid House. London: Serpents Tail. Critcher, C. 2000. Still Raving: Social Reaction to Ecstasy. Journal of the Leisure Studies Association 19: 145–162. Dawson, P. 2014. Our Anonymous Online Research Participants Are Not always Anony- mous: Is This a Problem? British Journal of Educational Technology 45 (3) 2014: 428 –437. Festival Insights. 2013. Market Report. http://www.festivalinsights.com/wp- content/uploads/UKFA2013_SHOWGUIDE_MarketReport.pdf. Accessed: 15 April 2016. Festival Insights. 2014. Women in Festivals: The Slottsfjell Way. http://www.festivalinsights.com/2014/07/insight-women-festivals-slottsfjell/. Ac- cessed: 15 April 2016. Fritz, J. 1999. Rave Culture: An Insider’s Overview. Smallfry Press. Garcia, L. 2013. Doing Nightlife and EDMC Fieldwork. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 5 (1): 3–17. Garratt, S. 1998. Adventures in Wonderland: A Decade of Club Culture. Headline Pub- lishing. Gregory, J. 2012. Ageing Rave Women’s Post-Scene Narratives. In A. Bennett and P. Hodkinson Eds. Ageing and Youth Cultures: Music, Style and Identity. London: Bloomsbury Academic: 37–49. Hine, C. 2015. Ethnography for the Internet: Embedded, Embodied and Everyday. Lon- don: Bloomsbury Academic. Holland, S. 2004. Alternative Femininities, Body, Age, Identity. Oxford: Berg Publishers. Holloway, S. L. and Valentine, G. 2003. Cyberkids. London: Routledge. Jackson, B. 1999. The Ethnographic Voice. Il Polo, October: 139–141. Jupp, V, Davies, P. and Francis, P. 2000. Doing Criminological Research. London: Sage. Liecht, A. 2013. Female pressure. http://www.thundertix.com/festival-ticketing- software/is-gender-bias-at-music-festivals-detrimental-to-profits/. Accessed: 15 April 2016. Measham, F, Aldridge, J. and Parker, H. 2001. Dancing on Drugs: Risk, Health and He- donism in the British Club Scene. London: Free association Books.

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Measham, F, Moore, K. and Oostergard, J. 2011. Emerging Drug Trends in Lancashire NTES Phase One Report. www3.lancashire.gov.uk/corporate/web/view- doc.asp?id=114302. Accessed: 15 April 2016. McKay, G. 1998. DiY Culture: Party and Protest in Nineties Britain. London: Verso. McRobbie, A. ̶ 1991. Feminism and Youth Culture. Hampshire: Macmillan Press. 2000. Feminism and Youth Culture. Hampshire: Macmillan Press. O’Grady, A. ̶ 2013. Interrupting Flow: Researching Play, Performance and Immersion in Festival Scenes. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 5 (1): 18–38. 2015. Dancing Outdoors: DIY Ethics and Democratised Practices of Wellbeing on the UK Alternative Festival Circuit. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 7 (1): 76–96. Parker, H, Aldridge, J. and Measham, F. 1998. Illegal Leisure: The Normalization of Adolescent Recreational Drug Use. London: Routledge. Pink, S. et al. 2015. Digital Ethnography: Principles and Practice. London: Sage. Redhead,S. 1996. Rave Off, Politics and Deviance in Contemporary Youth Culture. Al- dershot – Hants: Ashgate Publishing Ltd. Redhead, S. 1997. Subculture to Clubcultures: An Introduction to Popular Cultural Stud- ies. Oxford: Blackwell. Roberts, M. and Turner, C. 2005. Conflicts of Liveability in the 25-Hour City: Learning from 48 Hours in the Life of London’s Soho. Journal of Urban Design 10: 171–193. Schwanen, T, van Aalst, I, Brands, J. and Timen, T. 2012. Rhythms of the Night Spatio- temporal Inequalities in the Night Time Economy. Critical Space-Time Geographies. ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/uuid:82764b52-56ea-45f3.../ATTACHMENT03. Accessed: 15 April 2016. St John, G. – 2009. Technomad: Global Raving Cultures. London: Equinox Publishing Ltd. 2010a. Ed. The Local Scenes and Global Culture of Psytrance. Oxon: Routledge. 2010b. Making a Noise – Making a Difference: Techno-Punk and Terra-ism. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 1 (2): 1–28. TBR. 2011. After Dark Report. http://www.tbr.co.uk/media/After_Dark_2011_v6.pdf. Accessed: 15 April 2016. Thornton, S. 1995. Club Cultures: Music, Media and Subcultural Capital, Polity, Cam- bridge, UKs and the Criminal Justice System. London: Routledge. Vice. 2014. Report on Women in EDMC. https://thump.vice.com/en_us/article/can- teaching-young-women-to-dj-and-produce-solve-gender-inequality-in-electronic- music. Accessed: 15 April 2016. Wiles, R, Crow, G, Heath, S. and Charles, V. 2006. Anonymity and Confidentiality, University of Southampton. NCRM Working Paper 2 (06). ESRC National Centre for Research Methods Willson, L. 2013. The Safety of Women in the Night Time economy: A Case Study of Colchester Town. http://www.colchester.gov.uk/CHttpHandler.ashx?id=7367&p=0. Accessed on 15 April 2016.

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Popular music ensembles

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Collaboration in semi-professional music groups

Tobias Marx Kassel University, Kassel, Germany [email protected] Cohesive music performances require collaboration among musicians which has been studied widely in jazz and art music. This study aims at answering how collaboration can be conceptualized and measured in actual music group live performances in rock and pop. Five semi-professional bands, consisting of twenty musicians in total, were video captured during rehearsals and live performances. Results were obtained by statistical evaluation of video annotations of verbal and nonverbal communication based on the work of Seddon (2005) using the software ELAN. Nonverbal collaboration between musicians turned out to be differentiable into four hierarchical ordered phases: uncertain cooperation, stable cooperation, stable collaboration and risk-taking collaboration. Findings show different kinds of usage of attained risk-taking collaboration in making music together: using risk-taking collaboration as underlying concept of making music together, creating stable collaborative moments while composing together and training collaboration while rehearsing. The concept of co-performer collaboration is therefore found to be of value in describing popular music performances and proposed to be of more importance in the training of musicians.

Keywords: small group research, performance, social interaction, music psychology, videography, popular music

Context and aim Successful collaboration in music making is an accomplishment that needs to be acknowledged and the quality of which is hard to assess. The study presented here is an extract from a PhD thesis which deals with the interplay of different levels of expertise, personality constellations, group cohesion and collaboration in semiprofessional popular music groups. From a social personality perspective, performances of bands can have two goals: a) composing songs, which is a musical activity and b) performing songs

[email protected] 174 Tobias Marx live, which is a combination of musical and organizational issues. These can be valent: 1) internal, meaning within the group of musicians and 2) external, meaning in interaction with venues, audiences, etc. Underlying all these activities is always the social multilayer of relationships between everyone involved. It is important to keep in mind that performance is not the same as success ̶ a successful performance of a band does not directly lead to social approval or financial income or whatever success could mean. The relations described are displayed in Figure 1.

Figure 1. Internal versus external performance in relation to success and musical goals of a band.

When focusing on the musical and internal performance of composing, rehearsing and performing on stage the core activity happening is the nonverbal communication between musicians. Literature names different terms which basically all aim at the same phenomenon: mutual tuning in relationship (Schütz 1951), striking a groove together (Berliner 1994), spontaneous musical utterances (Da- vidson and Good 2002), group flow (Sawyer 2006), analogical imagining (Barret 2010), magical performances (Lim 2013), empathetic attunement (Seddon 2005). The last expression provided by Seddon (2005) is the most recent and the one I am following here. Empathetic attunement is part of one of six modes of communication found in a jazz band and in an art music quartet (cf. Seddon and Biasutti 2009); exemplified in Table 1.

[email protected] Collaboration in semi-professional music groups 175

(Examples only!) verbal nonverbal Instruction “play more listening to a presented smoothly” tune

Cooperation “let’s play the chorus successfully playing twice” together

Collaboration “the ending might empathetic attunement, sound better when risk-taking playing, played more heavy” spontaneous musical utterances Table 1. Six modes of communication found by Seddon (2005) and Seddon and Biasutti (2009). The mode of nonverbal collaboration, as comparable to Berliner’s expression “striking a groove together”, defines the highest level of interaction a music group can achieve. Therefore, the hypotheses here are as follows: 1) likewise to ensembles of jazz and art music the functioning of rock and pop bands is characterised by the modes of communication defined by Seddon; 2) differences between bands in the ability of using nonverbal communication are expected; 3) it is presumed that nonverbal cooperation and collaboration can be used to evaluate performances of musical group. Method To verify and analyze nonverbal cooperation and nonverbal communication in popular music groups, five bands consisting of twenty musicians from Berlin were filmed during rehearsals and live performances. This material was sorted and reduced to one song of each band in different points of time, from the first video, graphed rehearsal to the live performance. These samples were analyzed by means of Seddon’s (2005) six modes of communication using the software ELAN (MPI 2013) from the Max Plank Institute in Netherlands, which allows to connotate two videos at the same time. This was necessary to be able to have all musicians pictured using two cameras in different angles in very small performance venues (cf. Figure 2).

[email protected] 176 Tobias Marx

Figure 2. Analysis setup of a videographed band using two camera outputs and Sed- don’s (2005) six modes of communication in the Software ELAN (MPI 2013).

Results Results firstly show that there always exists a comparable order of events in the work of bands: 1) working rehearsals: material is developed and composed; 2) passing rehearsals: material – mostly set lists – are tested for live performances; 3) live performances: bands present their musical material in front of audiences. The analysis shows that, likewise to ensembles of jazz and art music the functioning of rock and pop bands can be described by using the modes of communication defined by Seddon (2005). The only deviation was the need to create a seventh mode named “other”, which contained, for instance, tuning activities, which could not be assigned to nonverbal instruction. Therefore hypothesis 1 is confirmed. The comparison of nonverbal cooperation of the sample shows interesting differences displayed in Figure 3. In working rehearsals some bands do not cooperate at all – meaning there is no nonverbal interaction happening (f.i. band 5). Other bands interact and cooperate already on a high level (f.i. band 3. In passing rehearsals some bands hardly increase their level of cooperation (f.i. band 1) and some bands already rise their level of cooperation to their maximum possible level (f.i. band 4). In live performances, all bands show more cooperation than in

[email protected] Collaboration in semi-professional music groups 177 working rehearsals. Interestingly, observed cooperation in band 4 declines in comparison to the passing rehearsal value.

Figure 3. Analysis results for nonverbal cooperation. X-axis: time flow of one song for each band. Y-axis: time spent in nonverbal cooperation mode in percent relative to the duration of the analyzed video material (time invested into the song).

Figure 4. Analysis results for nonverbal collaboration. X-axis: time flow of one song for each band. Y-axis: time spent in nonverbal collaboration mode in percent relative to the duration of the analyzed video material (time invested into the song).

Comparison of nonverbal collaboration shows a completely different picture (Figure 4). Comparable deviations to cooperation in working rehearsals can still be found but in passing rehearsals and live performances three bands do not or hardly increase their level of collaboration. It is striking to find that two bands show clearly more collaboration in passing rehearsals than in live performances. One band even drops its collaboration level to almost zero in the live performance.

[email protected] 178 Tobias Marx

The analysis shows that differences between bands in the ability of using nonverbal communication can be pointed out. Therefore hypothesis 2 is confirmed. To be able to grasp the meaning of these results it makes sense to compare them to results from another study (cf. Figure 5). With Seddon and Biasutti (2009) it becomes clear that professional musicians interact on cooperational level when starting to engage in working rehearsals; in passing rehearsals performance in front of an audience on collaborational level is tested; and in the actual live performance, the level of nonverbal communication even rises from empathetic attunement to risk-taking playing. In contrast, amateur musicians usually are not able to present the level of cohesive cooperation attained in passing rehearsals to the audiences. But what is the case with semi-professional musicians? In working rehearsals, they usually start on the same level as professional musicians. In passing rehearsals they possibly already perform on a high level of nonverbal collaboration. And in live performances they are hardly able to still rise their level of collaboration to risk-taking playing, and mostly even drop down to cohesive performance on a cooperational level again. The rise from semi-professional to professional musicianship regarding musical performance seems to be defined by the ability of a group to transport nonverbal collaboration onto the actual live performance, rather than attaining peaks in the rehearsal room. Analysis of the nonverbal interaction in the sample in comparison to Sed- don and Biasutti (2009) also leads to further differentiation within the modes of nonverbal communication. In the mode of nonverbal cooperation it becomes clear that we should distinguish between unstable and cohesive (stable) performances of bands. This may not be the case for professional musicians who are able to perform on a cohesive level from scratch. But taking the abilities of amateur or semi- professional musicians into account, unstable performances in rehearsals are happening and need to be integrated into the model. As for the nonverbal collaboration, it seems to make sense to differentiate between empathetic attunement – a level of interaction that should be met by every band entering the stage; and risk-taking playing, which can usually only be met by very skilled musicians, since a high degree of musical freedom is necessary. The analysis shows that nonverbal cooperation and collaboration can be used to evaluate musical group performances. Therefore hypothesis 3 is confirmed.

[email protected] Collaboration in semi-professional music groups 179

Figure 5. Comparison of study results (semi-professional musicianship) with results from Seddon and Biasutti (2009, professional musicianship) and an assumptive graph for amateur musicians (beginners level). Additionally nonverbal collaboration and nonverbal cooperation are further differentiated into four hierarchical stages of attunement: unstable performance – cohesive (stable) performance, empathetic attunement – risk-taking playing.

While trying to make sense of the results of semi-professional nonverbal collaboration three types of uses emerged. The first is using mutual attunement for generating a creative moment to improve the music. Band 1 dropped its collaboration from very high in passing rehearsal to almost zero in front of an audience. The live performance concept of this band is based on cooperation. Collaboration is rather conceptualized as method of composing together. The second use is mutual attunement being the core concept of making music in general ̶ in rehearsals as well as in live performances. Band 5 conceptualized nonverbal collaboration as a way of musical expression. The third use is wittingly training for mutual attunement. Band 4 rises to maximum collaboration in passing rehearsal and drops to empathetic attunement on stage. Nonverbal collaboration has been recognized as desirable on stage and is being worked on in the rehearsal room. Conclusions To summarize and contextualize the findings, two statements must be made here: 1) Nonverbal collaboration adds a core ingredient to the concept of musical expertise in popular music – especially regarding live performances and the process of group composition.

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2) Concepts of measurable nonverbal collaboration therefore enable new training goals in higher music education and the possibility of knowledgeable assessment of musical group performances. All three previously stated hypotheses were confirmed. Furthermore, the findings shed light on the relation of amateur, semi-professional, and professional music making. Professionalization in popular music, and maybe in music in general, still focuses too much on expertise regarding playing skills. A social psychology perspective on expertise may offer new and enlightening ways to enhanced knowledge and new tools of teaching within the musical context. Limitations and outlook In general, it must be taken into consideration that the analyzed concepts of nonverbal communication are negotiable. Although this study was able to replicate the modes of nonverbal cooperation and collaboration, it also happened to specify both further into unstable/stable (cohesive) performance and empathetic attunement versus risk-taking playing. Therefore, the right amount of simplification of a very complex situation is yet to be achieved. Furthermore, results indicate that risk-taking playing results in more “jazzi- er” music styles (fusion styles) like jazz rock; indications which should be pursued. In addition, the question arises in what way the modes of communication are being effective in zero history groups – musicians making music together for the first time and yet achieving nonverbal collaboration? And of course, musical performance does not only consist of the musician’s ability to apply nonverbal collaboration; this would be only one component of several. Results of this study cannot be viewed singularly – they are part of a complex network of interrelations. In small working groups, some of them are expertise, personality and cohesion, which have been studied and set into perspective by Marx (2017) together with internal and external collaboration to get closer to the bigger picture of the real life and working flow of popular music bands. There are for sure even more variables interacting. To enable the application of those new found results in higher music education the new knowledge needs to be transported out of the cloud of musicology into the real world of music school rehearsal rooms. And at last it is necessary to conduct more analyses of professional popular music groups. Risk-taking playing might not always be the core concept and goal of every band. Some bands may focus on studio performances, for instance.

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References Barret, F. J. 2010. Cultivating an Attunement to Unfolding: Improvisation and the Dis- covery of Identity. In M. Santi Ed. Improvisation: Between Technique and Spontanei- ty. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing: 153 ̶ 161. Berliner, P. F. 1994. When the Music’s Happening and When It’s Not. In Thinking in Jazz: The Infinite Art of Improvisation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press: 387 ̶ 415. Bullerjahn, C, Stefanovska, S. and von Georgi, R. 2015. Bandklima, Musikerpersönlichkeit und soziale Interaktion: Kulturvergleichende Befragung von deutschen und mazedonischen Bands. Samples 13: 1 ̶ 25. Davidson, J. W. and Good, J. M. 2002. Social and Musical Co-Ordination between Mem- bers of a String Quartet: An Exploratory Study. Psychology of Music 30: 186 ̶ 201. MPI. 2013. ELAN Linguistic Annotator v4.6.2. Lim, M. C. 2013. In Persuit of Harmony: The Social and Organisational Factors in a Professional Vocal Ensemble. Psychology of Music 42: 307 ̶ 324. Marx, T. 2017. Musiker unter sich: Kohäsion und Leistung in semiprofessionellen Musikgruppen. Wiesbaden: Springer VS. Sawyer, R. K. 2006. Group Creativity: Musical Performance and Collaboration. Psychol- ogy of Music 34: 148 ̶ 165. Schütz, A. 1951. Making Music Together: A Study in Social Relationship. Social Re- search 18: 76. Seddon, F. 2005. Modes of Communication during Jazz Improvisation. British Journal of Music Education 22: 47 ̶ 61. Seddon, F, Biasutti, M. 2009. A Comparison of Modes of Communication between Mem- bers of a String Quartet and a Jazz Sextet. Psychology of Music 37: 395 ̶ 415.

[email protected] Samba batucada: Flexibility and integration

Francisco de Assis Santana Mestrinel (Chico Santana) State University of Campinas, Department of Music, Campinas, São Paulo, Brazil; University of Music Franz Liszt Weimar, UNESCO Chair on Transcultural Music Studies, Weimar, Germany [email protected] This paper discusses the aspects of flexibility and integration in the performance of samba batucada, a Brazilian collective percussive practice. Departing from the sonic visualization of two examples – Bateria de Bamba and Bateria Al- calina – I present some perspectives of the samba’s rhythmic structure and the relation between sound patterns and body movements. Flexibility and integration may be seen as inherent aspects of the collective music making, reflecting some further issues of the batucada experience.

Keywords: samba, batucada, corporeality, rhythm, Bateria Alcalina, Bateria de Bamba

Introduction The present paper presents a partial overview of a doctoral research about the experience of batucada, focusing on its dynamic processes, which integrate musical, educational and social aspects. The analysis of different elements of the batucada phenomenon aims at understanding how they are linked to each other. My hypothesis is that batucada is a bodily experience that promotes the interaction between the participants, integrating learning processes and social aspects and thus reflecting elements of the musical practice as well as its rhythmic characteristics. My methodology adopts the perspective of transcultural music studies, concentrating on the processes of collective music making. The utilized data was collected during my fieldwork, comparing audio and video recordings, as well as interviews, with my own embodied experience. I aim to demonstrate the aspects of flexibility and integration inherent to the batucada rhythm, questioning how these aspects articulate during the performance of samba batucada; what is the impact of both concepts to the batucada rhythm and how it is linked to further aspects of the batucada experience. After presenting a brief analysis of field audio recordings using sonic visualization, I © Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden GmbH, part of Springer Nature 2019 M. Dumnić Vilotijević und I. Medić (Hrsg.), Contemporary Popular Music Studies, Systematische Musikwissenschaft, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-658-25253-3_17

[email protected] 184 Chico Santana propose a simple model to demonstrate the inherent movements of the sound structure. Then, I discuss the relation of these movements to the physical structure of performers, observing an acoustic-motional dimension of the music making process. In the conclusion, I point to some further elements linked to the batucada experience, outlining the concepts of flexibility and integration in a wider perspective. Batucada means basically the samba groove, whereby samba can refer to (1) music, (2) dance or even (3) party (Graeff 2015; Sodré 1979). One word for three elements, or three connected actions. Music is supporting dance in a meeting place. This expanded perspective alludes to the so-called African batuques (African drumming and dances), ancient Afro-American diasporic manifestations, that integrate these elements, merging the symbolic dimensions of the sacred, the playful and the spectacular (Mestrinel 2018: 47). The word batucada comes from batuque, that was considered a synonym for samba until the beginning of the twentieth century (Andrade 1989; Lopes 2003). Musically speaking, there is a huge universe of samba styles. Batucada is linked more specifically to the samba enredo played by the samba schools of Brazilian carnival. After the foundation of the first samba schools (end of the 1920s), samba rhythm established some of its main musical characteristics (San- droni 2001) and the batucada developed within a process of samba “modernization” in the urban context. The percussion ensembles called baterias play during the carnival parade of samba schools, in a competition that follows strict rules.1 However, batucada may be observed in a wider perspective, as a kind of experience capable to mobilize people through a musical collective practice. Batucada is present, by instance, in soccer games (both professional and amateur), political protests and the street carnival of the so-called blocos (without competition). Wherever it is performed, batucada promotes a wide interaction of people, mobilizing body movements, articulating music patterns and establishing relationships between the participants, their culture and the places where they are. Bateria de Bamba and Bateria Alcalina Nenê de Vila Matilde is considered a traditional samba school and was founded in 1949 in the East End of the city of São Paulo by Alberto Alves da Silva, aka Seu Nenê, his relatives and friends from his neighbourhood. Its bateria has always been its main strength (Mestrinel 2009; Simson 2007). Such degree of musical proficiency earned it a nickname: Bateria de Bamba.2 This ensemble presents a vigorous drumming and a high level of body engagement during the performance. As a rhythm player (a ritmista), I have played caixa (snare drum) and repinique at Bateria de Bamba since 2005.

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Bateria Alcalina3 was created in 2003 on the campus of the State Universi- ty of Campinas. It is part of the Bloco União Altaneira, which parades in the street carnival of the neighborhood Barão Geraldo in the city of Campinas. Alt- hough Alcalina emerged as an academic bateria linked to the University, it soon became an active cultural group beyond its academic boundaries. I have been a mestre (musical director and conductor) of this group since its foundation. Bateria de Bamba is a typical percussion ensemble from samba schools, with standard instrumentation and a repertoire entirely devoted to samba enredo. Bateria Alcalina follows the same model, but also plays other rhythms freely adapted to their instruments in creative arrangements and versions (Mestrinel 2015). Nevertheless, Alcalina is mainly dedicated to the practice of samba, having the batucada of Nenê de Vila Matilde as its main reference. Thus, although both groups perform in different contexts, they share similarities. Bateria de Bamba parades with circa two hundred rhythm players (ritmistas), while that of Alcalina comprises fifty members during the carnival period. In both groups, the percussion instruments are divided into categories (naipes). Surdo (with three “voices”: first, second, and third), caixa, and repinique constitute the so called “heavy”, while tamborim, chocalho, agogô, and cuica form the “light” ones. Each instrument follows a rhythmic pattern called “batida” or “levada”, played cyclically. A batucada’s pattern combines sound density, intensity and timbre, usually in cycles of sixteen elementary pulses (sixteenth notes). Musical behaviors To understand how the rhythmic patterns of each category fit together, I resort to three basic functions, that I call musical behaviors: (1) marcação – marking, (2) condução – conducting, and (3) base – basis. Marcação consists of a pattern played in low drums, the central pivot for the practice, playing a regular beat. In the samba batucada the lowest voices of surdo drums (surdo de primeira and surdo de segunda) are responsible for this pattern behavior, that acts as a rhythmic bedrock, supporting the musical structure and the performance. The Condução corresponds to the elementary pulsation, usually called a “subdivision” of the beat. This pattern creates a constant flux, “conducting” the movements of the collective practice. In a samba batucada, the patterns of tamborim, ganzá (chocalho) and repinique are responsible for this rhythmic layer. Base is a pattern similar to a time-line (Kubik 1979; Nketia 1974), the same as “rhythmic-line” (Graeff 2015; Pinto 2001) consisting of loops with varied accents and musical figures. In a batucada, it is mainly caixa and surdo de terceira that play this kind of pattern. Base refers also to some rhythmic accents (stressed notes) that characterize a musical style or genre.

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This kind of pattern may, thus, be implicit when some instruments are played, as a tacit presence in the rhythmic structure. The rhythmic patterns and their behaviors can be identified on a transcription of samba batucada grid: red color refers to marcação behavior, blue to basis, and yellow to conduction. The first four lines present the light categories of instruments, and the heavy instruments are showed in the lower lines.

Figure 1. Score with transcription of the basic rhythmic patterns of samba. During the performance, the patterns relate to and communicate with each other, moving and merging themselves in a conjugation process. Some instrument plays a flexible role, varying from one behavior one to another in different parts of the arrangement played during a performance4. Thus, the grid transcription seems to be a rather restricted representation of this process. According to Anne Danielsen, “what constitutes a relevant representation of rhythmic structure var- ies […] not only with the sound in question but also with the position and priori- ties of the observer” (2010: 7). As an insider of batucada groups, I seek to illustrate the flexibility and integration of the rhythmic structure using spectrograms of my field recordings, made in the middle of the groups. A sonic visualization5 illustrates how the patterns behave during the performance of Bateria de Bamba and Bateria Alcalina.

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Figure 2. Spectrograms of Bateria Alcalina (left) and Bateria de Bamba (right) playing samba.6 Marcação patterns behave as the main pivots in the lowest frequencies of the rhythmic structure. This pattern “marks” the beat,7 supporting the other patterns through an interlocking movement of surdo de primeira and surdo de segunda. It can be visualized at the lowest part of both images. The base pattern behaves as a connection between the low and high frequencies, alternating suspended and supported sounds. According to the emic terminology, this kind of pattern “cuts” (corta) the low beat, stressing some syncopated points, creating a rhythmic tension in relation with marcação. The vertical stressed lines on the spectrogram show the main accent of the base behavior. This movement is responsible for characterizing the samba style. The condução behaves as a conductor, through its constant flux of movements, as an integrator pattern, playing all the elementary pulses of the rhythmic cycles. In the next figure the circles indicate the behaviors of the patterns in the rhythmic structure (orange marcação, blue base, yellow condução).

Figure 3. Music behaviors of the patterns in the rhythmic structure.

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The batucada gear The conjugation of those musical behaviors constitutes what I call the batucada gear. The movements of each kind of pattern are interrelated, one fluidly affecting the other. The next figure illustrates the articulation of the gear. The mar- cação acts as a gravitacional force, attracting the other patterns to stable points – illustrated by the orange triangular arrows below. The base patterns tension this stability with its suspended notes, “pulling" and “cutting” the rhythmic structure – illustrated by the blue triangular arrow in the middle. Condução patterns create a flux of horizontal movements, leading to a flexibility of the beats positions – illustrated by the yellow narrows in the upper part. The alternated directions of these pattern movements derive from the physical movements by means of which some instruments (e.g. chocalho and tamborim) are played.

Figure 4. Movements of the batucada gear.

Stover (forthcoming) identifies three useful aspects in understanding the related- ness of a time-line to other rhythmic lines: (1) a sense of two different directional implications, (2) the non-alignment of this up-down relation with metric cycle beginnings and (3) the sense of circularity. Those aspects may be observed in the samba batucada. The cyclical organization of the patterns enables this sense of circularity, illustrated by the alternated yellow arrows that conduct the patterns fluently. The relation between the marcação and the base implicates two directions (up-down), illustrated by the triangular arrows. The suspended stressed strokes (blue narrows) are not aligned to the attractive force of the low pivot (orange narrow), creating therefore a rhythmic tension in the structure. This model

[email protected] Samba batucada: Flexibility and integration 189 illustrates the inherent movements of the rhythmic texture, leading to the observation of a relation of flexibility in its structure. The batucada gear synthesizes the dynamic musical behaviors of batucada’s performance, result of the ritimistas’ individual performance involved by this sound gear. Dynamically, at the same time that the body movements of performers produce the sound, the bodies themselves are mobilized by the rhythmic gear in a two-way-path. In this space “between”, the rhythm earns a high level of flexibility, and the patterns establish several relations between each other, integrating (conjugating) themselves. Gabrielsson (1982: 159) points out that performance activities result in “sound sequences” that may give rise to a “rhythm response”, generating a “feedback” to the performance itself. In other words, there is a dynamic movement between an acoustic dimension (sound sequences) and a psychological phenomenon (people’s rhythm responses). In batucada, the sound sequences of the patterns move constantly, and the rhythm response may be observed in the bodies of performers. Corporeality Luis Ferreira (2013: 232) describes the role of the body in Afro-American rhythms and performances, as “part of the sound production, promoting interaction not only with dancers […], but between musicians while they make music”. In both baterias studied, the practice of batucada deeply involves the body during the performative action of the rhythm players. The body is both musical emitter and receptor and gestural patterns are connected to sound patterns. Bre- ton (2009) asserts that through corporeality, men make the world into an extension of their experience; they transform it into familiar and consistent wefts, available to action and permeable to comprehension. Considering this perspective, I suggest that in batucada the body plays a mediation role. It acts in a flexible and interactive weft, externalizing performative aspects of sound and movement, transiting through symbolic dimensions. The body mediates the individual and collective levels of the practice, integrating the personality of each rhythm player – the way one plays – and the sonority of the whole group. In batucada, the musical behaviors – the movements of the samba gear – may be felt in its “physical structure” (Rodrigues 2016: 48). The rhythm movements activate the whole body during the performance. The musical form and structures become more flexible through the interaction and integration between the individual and collective levels of music making, which leads the rhythm players to play together. According to Pinto (2001: 103), the Afro-Brazilian music is performed through the articulation of sound and motion (body movements) forming “acoustic-motional patterns”. Clayton et al. (2004: 21) explain the concept of entrainment, suggesting to “look at engagement with music not simply as

[email protected] 190 Chico Santana a process of encoding and decoding information, but of embodied interaction and ‘tuning-in’ to musical stimuli”. In batucada’s performance, I call this entrainment body rhythm reverberation. The marcação reverberates in the lower parts of the physical structure, mainly the feet. The same way that the rhythmic structure is supported by the interlocked sounds of the lowest surdos, the feet support the body structure and move it in a pendular sequence. Each low beat mobilizes the steps, creating a balance (in the sense of a swing) in the physical structure. During the performance, the rhythm players normally synchronize themselves by this body balance, fostering an acoustic-motional consonance. Through supporting of the feet motional pattern, the whole body reverberates the acoustic movements of the rhythm. The condução behavior mobilizes mainly the upper parts of the physical structure, conducting the arm movements involved in playing the patterns related to this function. Shoulder movements reverberate the constant flux of this conduction, presenting a sense of fluidness in the performance. The base behavior may be felt at the medium parts of the body, especially in waist, trunk and arms. Those parts do not move in a direct relation with the rhythm patterns, but reverberate the tensions of the suspended (syncopated) sounds of the groove. As a conclusion, the central role of corporeality in batucada experience can be understood as a flexibility of the rhythm rooted in the performer’s flexible physical behavior. Conclusion Graziela Rodrigues (2016) states that the physical structure of performers moves through a constant flux of crossed energies, creating the unity of the whole body. Analogously, the rhythm structure of a batucada creates its unity through the relation of each pattern in a fluid movement. The flexibility of the rhythmic movements is what enables the integration of all patterns, leading to a consonant performance. The flexibility of the acoustic-motional patterns give rise to several kinds of musical interpretation, giving a personality to each rhythmic pattern. This personality reflects the musical behaviors and the body engagement of the ritmistas during the performance, integrated through the samba gear. This process enables people with varied levels of music skill to play together. In Bateria Alcalina, players who have just begun their musical apprenticeship may be integrated by the group, participating actively on the performances. In Bateria de Bamba, these varied forms of playing foster a process of learning together: each player becomes a reference for the other, and the very performance becomes a space of interaction and apprenticeship. As Blacking suggest, “techniques of the body are not entirely learnt from others so much as discovered

[email protected] Samba batucada: Flexibility and integration 191 through others” (Blacking 1977: 4). In other words, the bodies reverberate different aspects of the performance, and the players may learn together. A social aspect emerges from this experience, through the engagement of people in a collective musical practice. The performers may develop their body consciousness, learning more than technique knowledge, developing the skill to interact, to move and to play together. It reflects on several activities of the groups, giving rise to a communitarian sense. The members of each bateria take part at the organization of parties, public presentation, workshops and so on. Batucada foster the integration of music, dance and party, merging the ancient elements of samba’s culture and its symbolic dimensions. The flexibility and the integration may be seen as complementary aspects within the rhythmic structure movement. The dynamism of batucada reverberates the movement of the culture, in a dialectic perspective, always changing and integrating new aspects through transcultural processes.

1 The Carnival competition between the samba schools is regulated by several rules to evaluate different elements of the parade, including among other costumes, composition, and the bacteria’s performance. 2 Samba school baterias are usually nicknamed according to their musical or historical features. Bamba refers to very competent people in the universe of samba, be they composers, instrumentalists, dancers or interpreters. 3 Alcalina is due to the stamina of the group, which usually plays with “much energy” for long periods of time. It is an allusion to baterias alcalinas (alkaline batteries). 4 Repinique and tamborim are good examples of this flexibility in the musical behavior. 5 I used the software Sonic Visualizer (http://www.sonicvisualiser.org/) 6 The piano keyboard (vertical axis) shows the frequency levels and the images in black are the sound espectrograms in an horizontal time axis. 7 Marcação in Portuguese means “marking”.

References Andrade, M. de. 1989. Dicionário Musical Brasileiro. Belo Horizonte: Ministério da Cultura. Blacking, J. 1977. The Anthropology of the Body. London: Academic Press. Breton, D. Le. 2010. Sociologia do corpo. Petrópolis RJ: Vozes. Clayton, M, Sager, R. and Will, U. 2001. In Time with the Music: The Concept of En- trainment and Its Significance for Ethnomusicology. ESEM CounterPoint 1. http://www.open.ac.uk/Arts/experience/InTimeWithTheMusic.pdf. Accessed: 23 April 2017. Danielsen, A. 2010. Rhythm in the Age of Digital Reproduction. New York: Ashgate Publishing.

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Ferreira, L. 2013. Concepciones cíclicas y rugosidades del tiempo en la práctica musical afroamericana: Un estudio a partir del candombe en Uruguay. In La Música entre África y America. Montevideo: CDM: 231–261. Gabrielsson A. 2010. Perception and Performance of Musical Rhythm. In M. Clynes Ed. Music, Mind and Brain. Boston: Springer: 159–169. Graeff, N. 2015. Os Ritmos da Roda: Tradição e transformação no samba de roda. Salvador: EDUFBA. Kubik, G. 1979. Angolan Traits in Black Music, Games and Dances of Brazil: A Study of African Cultural Extensions. Lisboa: Junta de Investigações Cinetíficas do Ultramar. Lopes, N. 2003. Sambeabá – o samba que não se aprende na escola. Rio de Janeiro, RJ: Casa da Palavra – Folha Seca. Mestrinel, F. de A. S. – 2009. A Batucada da Nenê de Vila Matilde: formação e transformação de uma bateria de escola de samba paulistana. MA. Instituto de Artes, Universidade Estadual de Campinas, Campinas. 2015. A Batucada como experiência significativa: A Bateria Alcalina. In XXII Congresso Nacional da Associação Brasileira de Educação Musical, Natal. 2018. Batucada: Experiência em movimento. PhD. Instituto de Artes, Universidade Estadual de Campinas, Campinas. Nketia, J. H. K. 1974. The Music of Africa. London: Victor Gollanz. Pinto, T. de O. 2001. Som e música: Questões de uma Antropologia Sonora. Revista de Antropologia 44 (1): 87–109. Rodrigues, G. 2016. Dancer – Researcher – Performance: A Learning Process. Bern: Pe- ter Lang. Sandroni, C. 2001. Feitiço Decente: Transformações do Samba no Rio de Janeiro (1917– 1933). Rio de Janeiro: Editora UFRJ. Sodré, M. 1979. Samba, o dono do corpo. Rio de Janeiro: Codecri. Simson, O. R. de M. V. 2007. Carnaval em branco e negro, carnaval popular paulistano: 1914–1988. Campinas: Editora da Unicamp. Stover, C. forthcoming. Contextual Theory, or Theorizing between the Discursive and the Material.

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“Sing to the Lord a new song”: The interaction of religion and popular music in the case of Posaunenchor in the protestant church in Germany

Ryoto Akiyama Osaka University, Graduate School of Letters (Musicology Division), Toyonaka, Osaka, Japan, The research fellowship of Japanese Society for the Promotion of Science [email protected] A Posaunenchor is a congregational brass ensemble mainly in the Lutheran Church in Germany. The performance of Posaunenchor has been regarded as a Christian religious music making, but it seems attuned to the secular environment, embracing secular popular music and the non-faithful brass players. How- ever, this secular popular music is performed for the religious purpose, and the participatory brass ensemble can make space for the religious conceptualization of music. In the Posaunenchor, the religious and the secular co-exist and interact. The interaction does not lead to the strengthening of either, but to the construction of fluidity and ambiguity. The concept of post-secularity can help explain this case. The Posaunenchor constructs a post-secular space, namely a fluid in-between space of the religious and the secular, and the meaning of its performance is constantly negotiated between religiosity and secularity. Based on the ongoing ethnographical fieldwork, this paper demonstrates how a Posaunenchor performs new repertoires and how its members participate in the music making, showing the effect of the popular music on the Posaunenchor and the need for further research.

Keywords: Christian popular music, participatory performance, post-secularity, in- between

Introduction A Posaunenchor is a congregational brass ensemble mainly in the Lutheran Church in Germany. It is considered one of the most lively music groups related to Protestant Christianity in Germany today. Rather than traditional chorales, popular music enlivens the musical participation of the Posaunenchor. This

[email protected] 194 Ryoto Akiyama paper is an overview of my ongoing research on this issue. Based on my ongoing ethnographical fieldwork including participant observation, interviews and questionnaires, I examine the intersection between religious practice and popular music in the current musical practice of the Posaunenchor. Rather than give a textual analysis of the Posaunenchor’s repertoire, I will focus on the activity of the Posaunenchor, demonstrating how a Posaunenchor performs new repertoires and how its members participate in the music making. Finally, I will show the effect of the popular music on the Posaunenchor and the need for further research. For purposes of this paper, popular music means the music that was produced industrially and spread to masses after the 1950s and that is performed within the institutionalized Christian context (Bubmann 2014; Kahn-Harris and Moberg 2012). In the context of current church music in Germany, popular music includes jazz and spirituals, Neues Geistliches Lied and Sacropop (new sacred song), evangelical rock and pop music from the US, Praise and Worship song, gospel music, meditative instrumental music, and the music from the Taizé community. Recently, the popular songs emerging from Christian practise and having relevant religious content have been included (Bubmann 2014). Posaunenchor The Posaunenchor originated from the revival movement (Erweckungs- bewegung). Before World War II, Posaunenchors were usually organized as subgroups of Christian youth clubs or independent brass ensembles of local congregations, composed of Lutheran working-class male youth. After World War II, Posaunenchors were integrated into local congregations, embracing female members and those from different age groups. Today, there are approximately 6,000 Posaunenchors with 117,000 members in Germany and the Lutheran Church regards them as an integral part of the Church and its congregations. In 2016, the Posaunenchor was registered in the United Nations Educational, Sci- entific and Cultural Organization Intangible Cultural Heritage and described as “a trademark of the Protestant Church” (German Commission for UNESCO 2016). The phrase from Psalm 150 “Praise the Lord with trumpet sound” (Lobet dem Herrn mit Posaunen) and the words of Johannes Kuhlo (1856 ̶1941), the most influential personality of Posaunenchors, “to the glory of God, to the edifi- cation of the congregation, and to the joy of its members” (zur Ehre Gottes, zur Erbauung der Gemeinde und zur Freude seiner Mitglieder) (Kuhlo 1909: 1) have been considered as the meaning of the musical performance of the Po- saunenchor. The brass sound of the Posaunenchor is described as the sounding Gospel. During the service of the Protestant Church, the Posaunenchor accom-

[email protected] “Sing to the Lord a new song”: The interaction of religion and popular music 195 panies the congregational singing and performs other selections such as the opening and closing music. A Posaunenchor usually consists of ten to thirty amateur brass players of the local congregation, although some Posaunenchors are larger. Trumpets and trombones are usually played in the collective ensemble and the flugelhorn, French horn, tenor horn, baritone, tuba, and some other brass instruments can be included. Parts are not divided by instrument but rather in four parts like a vocal chorus: soprano, alto, tenor and bass. The current repertoires of the Posaunenchor Because the Posaunenchor is expected to accompany the congregational singing during the service, the core repertoire is found in the Church hymnbook. But the current repertoires of the Posaunenchor are more diverse. The early leaders of the Posaunenchor edited its repertoire, which reflected their idea of the sacred brass performance. From the beginning of the Posaunen- chor in the nineteenth century, leaders discussed how Posaunenchor could perform sacred music that preaches the Gospel and tried to differentiate it from other secular vernacular brass bands. Kuhlo required that the music be related to the words of God if it was performed with the brass instruments, and that the Posaunenchor perform chorales and songs that sound like a homophonic a ca- pella chorus. He edited the repertoire book named Posaunenbuch which was the collection of four-part chorales and songs2 (Kuhlo 1909; Schnabel 1993). Kuhlo’s Posaunenbuch includes not only the Christian sacred songs, but also German folk songs that were sung by the congregation in his time. It was the standard repertoire of Posaunenchors until the mid-twentieth century. After Kuhlo’s generation, Wilhelm Ehmann (1904 ̶1989) and other leaders employed Baroque instrumental compositions and neoclassical contemporary works. They asserted that the sacred brass playing of the Posaunenchor should not be the imitation of vocal music but a fine ensemble of the brass instruments like in the Renaissance and Baroque era, the splendid and magnificent sound of which might embody the words of God (Ehmann 1950; Schnabel 1993). These ideas of the early leaders remained with the Posaunenchor during the second half of the twentieth century and the large part of the repertoire was comprised of the arrangement of the choral and instrumental compositions of the Renaissance and Baroque periods and the neoclassical new compositions. Posaunenchors encountered the contemporary popular music style when it was introduced into church music in Germany. In the 1950s, young people began to introduce popular new songs with contemporary lyrics and compositions to the Church. In the 1970s, new sacred songs with the musical styles of jazz, rock and pop called Neues Geistliches Lied, or Sacropop, spirituals, and gospel were

[email protected] 196 Ryoto Akiyama included as congregational songs (Bubmann 2014). While bands were expected to accompany these new songs, some composers tried to arrange them for the performance of the Posaunenchor. However, until the 1990s, the compositions for the Posaunenchor remained in the manner of art music and elements of the contemporary popular music styles were rare in the repertoire of the Posaunen- chor. Since the 1990s the repertoire of the Posaunenchor expanded to include the contemporary popular music style. More Neues Geistliches Lied were introduced to the Posaunenchor than before and the new leaders and composers for the Posaunenchor who were acquainted with the popular music styles and had experience in composing such musical elements arranged the conventional chorales and composed new contemporary popular works. The regional organizations edited new repertoire books that incorporated new compositions and arrangements. Many were sold beyond their local districts. Today, new repertoire books are very popular among Posaunenchors, and new selections are replacing the conventional ideas. Currently, a Posaunenchor is expected to play not only traditional chorales and Renaissance- and Baroque-related instrumental compositions, but also the compositions with the musical style of blues, swing, rock, pop, funk, salsa, reggae, samba, and so on. Even secular popular tunes from artists like the Beatles or Michel Jackson are arranged for the Posaunenchor. Some of the most recent examples include arrangements of famous tunes from movies. These new repertoires are central in the current performances of the Posaunenchor. The instrumental use of the popular music While the early leaders tried to differentiate the sacred performance of the Po- saunenchor from secular musical forms, the current repertoire seems rather attuned to the secular environment. But the popular repertoires are deliberately selected “to make and keep religion ‘relevant’ in a broader social and cultural environment that appeared to be increasingly marked by a general decline in traditional forms of religion and an increasing focus on the individual” (Kahn- Harris and Moberg 2012: 97). As Kahn-Harris and Moberg point out in the case of Christian popular music, the Posaunenchor’s music is practiced under the everyday and the mundane idea of instrumentalism, a form of action that is guid- ed by means-end rationality and that disciplines and governs the bounds of desirable outcomes’ (2012: 91), and is used “as an instrument for certain predeter- mined ‘accepted’ purposes” (2012: 98). Even though Posaunenchors play more popular secular music, they do not perform the popular repertoires like concert brass bands. Popular repertoires must be appropriately performed in the service or other institutionalized practices of Protestant Christianity and the meaning of the musical performance is negotiated to fulfill a religious purpose.

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For example, one of the Posaunenchors in my fieldwork performed AB- BA’s “Thank you for the music” as the closing music of the service. The end of the service is regarded as the conjunction between the service and everyday life. This popular tune had the role of transition from the ritualized time and space of the service to the everyday reality. Here, the musical meaning was negotiated between the religious and the secular. The intersection of both categories allowed for the translation of “Thank you for the music” to “Thank you, God, for the music”. Another example is the case of Bläsergottesdienst (brass player’s service). In this distinctive musical service, the largest part of the program is the musical performance of the Posaunenchor, including the congregational singing. The Posaunenchor usually plays chorales, choral-related works, or the Bible- related music in this service and its performance is expected to preach the Gos- pel. Intriguingly, a Posaunenchor in my fieldwork performed the music from the film Pirates of the Caribbean during a service. The music was decontextualized and modulated to the purpose of the service. In the sermon, with the reference to the Scripture, the film was interpreted as the story of good and evil. Consistent with this sermon, the film music was performed as preaching the Gospel. The performance of the Posaunenchor is usually structured in the Christian rituals. A Posaunenchor gives a concert in the Church performing secular popular tunes, but it usually is structured like the service, incorporating prayers, sermons, and the reading of Bible passages. In this way, the musical elements that were originally considered secular are interwoven with religious significance. However, in the course of my fieldwork including my own participation in the Posaunenchor as a trombonist, I found that how the brass players participate in the Posaunenchor is more significant than how they present new repertoires. Some members told me that they were not concerned with the religious presentation of the new repertoires, but enjoyed the brass ensemble in the Posaunenchor. Musical experience in the participatory performance The new repertoires allow participation from the non-faithful into Christian music making. The new popular repertoire attracts and encourages participation in the Posaunenchor by young members who do not have explicit Christian faith. However, it does not simply mean that the non-faithful become oriented to faith. Today, both the faithful and those without a Christian confession join the Po- saunenchor. While some members participate in the Posaunenchor because of their Christian faith, others join because it is fun. Christian faith is individual and not homogenous in the Posaunenchor. In addition to differences in faith, the social background and the musical ability of the members are diverse. But, through their brass ensemble, they feel the strong sense of being together which

[email protected] 198 Ryoto Akiyama they describe as Gemeinscahftsgefühl, which motivates the members to join the Posaunenchor. In my field research, I found that participation in the Posaunenchor was a social interaction as conceptualized by Thomas Turino (2008). The brass ensemble of the Posaunenchor is not distinguishable from the social interaction of the members which is an essential part of their activity. Their brass ensemble is interwoven in their social communication. They build family-like intimacy through their music and social activity. Although the Posaunenchor is expected to perform the various musical styles of today, the brass players of the Po- saunenchor do not care much about the stylistic issue, but about their participation in the ensemble. They consider how they participate in their musical activity rather than how they present their musical performance. In other words, rather than the abstract aesthetic quality or technical accuracy, they value how they can intensively participate into the sound and motion of the ensemble and how they can share the sense of being together in their musical and social activity beyond the difference of their individual attitude towards Christianity and social background. The brass players conceptualize their musical experience as the heightened emotional experience of social bonding. Through answers to questionnaires and interviews, the members describe the musical experience of their brass players as follows:

I feel, I am in the middle of the sound. I enjoy making music with many friends. I am pleased to belong to it. I feel, I am connected with the other brass players. The fine sound is the product of our solidarity. During the performance, the intention and awareness of the brass players direct to other brass players and to the whole ensemble. Turino describes this result as, “Differences among participants melt away as attention is focused on the seam- lessness of sound and motion. At such moments, moving together and sounding together in a group creates a direct sense of being together and of deeply felt similarity, and hence identity, among participants” (Turino 2008: 43). As Turino points out, this participatory music making strengthens the social bonding among the members. The members of the Posaunenchor intend to foster the intimacy through their music making. Conventionally, the members used to share in prayer or read the Bible together before and after their playing, but in the last decades, this custom has disappeared. However, the participatory music making of Posaunenchor makes space for the Christian conceptualization of music. While the music making of the Posaunenchor is not aimed at the religious experience and its performance is

[email protected] “Sing to the Lord a new song”: The interaction of religion and popular music 199 organized with secular rationality, the participatory performance which affords intimacy can lead the self-transcendental experience. From the view of practical theology, Koll (2016) examines this experience and community building of the Posaunenchor as a socio-religious practice. Some brass players conceptualize the musical and social experience as the Christian sacred experience. In a response to the questionnaire, a trumpet player of the Posaunenchor described the feeling of bonding in the participatory performance as the experience of connection to God. Another member described that during music making, he felt he was being near to God. The social bonding among the members can be experienced as being in the Christian community. Posaunenchor as the in-between The new popular repertoire and the participatory performance enliven the Po- saunenchor. Does that mean that the current Posaunenchor is an example of a new Christian religious expression in the present European society? Indeed, while Posaunenchor seemed more attuned to the secular, the secular seems to revitalize the religious participation. But the Posaunenchor does not seek an exclusive religiosity. In the Posaunenchor, the religious and the secular co-exist and interact. The boundary between them becomes indistinguishable in the performance of the Posaunenchor. The interaction does not lead to the strengthening of either, but the construction of fluidity and ambiguity. The concept of post-secularity can help explain this case. The background of this concept, which became famous by the discourse of Habermas, is the presence of religion in the public sphere and the critical reflection on the secularist vision in the last decades. Post-secularity refers to an attitude to avoid constructing pure secular reality and to reject the extremely exclusive religious alternative. The post-secular view expresses “a fluid and porous in-between zone”, which contains the possibility of both secular and religion but in a partial and debilitat- ed manner (Hopps 2017). Thus, post-secularity does not promote the exclusively autonomous rationality or the extreme alternative of rationality, namely religion. It assumes that autonomous rationality has the limitation and constructs the complementary and dialectic relation of both secular rationality and its alternative. The acceptance of the religious institution is optional. Religion is not refused and will be taken into consideration if it is suitable. The post-secular individuals tend to connect their experience with religious symbols and narratives if they give meaning to their life (Ziebertz and Riegel 2008). According to Ziebertz and Rie- gel, non-secular attitude is, comparatively, represented as fundamentalism. It assumes an invisible truth and exclusive doctrine, which harshly refuse the secular rationality.

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The origin of the Posaunenchor was the revival movement and its performance used to be dominated by the non-secular outlook. But today, the Po- saunenchor avoids the fundamentalist attitude and seeks to incorporate both religious and secular elements. The activity and musical experience of the Po- saunenchor can be connected to the Christian religious meaning, but it is partial and unsolidified, not exclusive. The Posaunenchor constructs a post-secular space, namely a fluid in-between space of the religious and the secular, and the meaning of its performance is constantly negotiated between religiosity and secularity. Conclusion The Posaunenchor has been regarded as the music making for the Christian faith and during Church services. But, currently, the Posaunenchor is not dominated by religion. The Posaunenchor is the in-between of the religion and the secular. While the secular popular musical form may be used to empower the religious participation, it may lead to fluidization of the concept of religion and secularity. The meaning of its performance is being restlessly negotiated. The religiosity or the secularity is framed and reframed by the acts of the agents of the Posaunen- chor, through the construction of new repertoire, participatory performance, ritualized acts, and narratives. In the further research, rather than examining religiosity or secularity of the Posaunenchor, considering the in-between, I will focus on these framing practices more closely. References Bubmann, P. 2014. Populäre Kirchenmusik der Gegenwart. In W. Hochstein and C. Krummacher Eds. Geschichte der Kirchenmusik Bd.4. Die zweite Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts und die Herausforderungen der Gegenwart. Laaber: Laaber: 293 ̶ 343. Ehmann, W. 1950. Tibilustrium. Das geistliche Blasen Formen und Reformen. Kassel: Bärenreiter. German Commission for UNESCO. 2016. Posaunenchöre. https://www.unesco.de/kultur/immaterielles-kulturerbe/bundesweites- verzeichnis/eintrag/posaunenchoere.html. Accessed: 20 June 2017. Hopps, G. 2017. Theology, Imagination and Popular music. In C. Partridge and M. Moberg Eds. The Bloomsbury Handbook of Religion and Popular Music. London: Bloomsbury. Kahn-Harris, K. and Moberg, M. 2012. Religious Popular Music: Between the Instrumen- tal, Transcendent and Transgressive. Temenos ̶ Nordic Journal of Comparative Religion 48 (1): 87 ̶ 106. Koll, J. 2016. Kirchenmusik als sozioreligiöse Praxis. Studien zu Religion, Musik und Gruppe am Beispiel des Posaunenchors. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt. Kuhlo, J. 1909. Posaunen-Fragen. Bethel.

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Schnabel, W. 1993. Die evangelische Posaunenchorarbeit. Herkunft und Auftrag. Göttin- gen: Vandenhoeck ̶ Ruprecht. Turino, T. 2008. Music as Social Life: The Politics of Participation. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Ziebertz, H.-G. and Riegel, U. 2008. Post-secular Europe: A Concept Questioned. In H.- G. Ziebertz and U. Riegel. Eds. Europe: secular or post-secular? Berlin: LIT: 9 ̶ 42.

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Musical formation of popular singers in Brazil: A case study with singers who sing in pairs música sertaneja – Brazilian country music

Jaqueline Soares Marques, Jusamara Souza Arts Institute/Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul, Graduate Program in Music, Porto Alegre, Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil [email protected], [email protected] This paper discusses the processes of musical and professional socialization through which singers who sing in duet música sertaneja came to constitute themselves as music professionals. Within the qualitative approach the research adopts as methodology the case study, using as data collection technique the semi-structured interview. Interviews were conducted with eight singers who sing in duet música sertaneja located in the region of Triangulo Mineiro/MG ̶ Brazil. Understanding the musical socialization and professionalization of singers in a duet is based on concepts of primary socialization professional socialization and musical socialization. Our analysis reveals that musical learning takes place diffusely in different instances of socialization ̶ family, friends, media ̶ when they learn spontaneously or without being aware that they are learning. Professionalization takes place in professional socialization when they begin to build their careers in music; it also occurs in moments of music- professional socialization ̶ shows, studio recordings, rehearsals and learning to sing in a duet. Understanding musical socialization and professionalization of singers who sing in duets in addition to contributing to the area of music education, can encourage other reflections on the possibilities of teaching/learning of popular singing.

Keywords: sociology of music education, popular singing, Brazilian country music

Introduction Currently in Brazilian popular music, there is a great presence of the so-called Brazilian country music produced and consumed in the central area of Brazil, encompassing the south and west of Minas Gerais, the interior of São Paulo and

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Paraná, as well as the states of Goiás and Mato Grosso. Produced in the beginning “for urban consumption”, música sertaneja was consumed by rural audiences through radio and live performances in circuses (Ulhôa 2004: 59). The term sertanejo, according to Ulhôa, refers to “the inhabitant of the northeastern hinterland, that is the dry region that runs from the North of Minas Gerais and parts of Goiás through the interior of Bahia and other states to the South of Ceará and Piauí” (2004: 59); another meaning of the word sertanejo is also “inhabitant of the interior, far from the city” (2004: 59). According to Santos (2000), the popularity of música sertaneja in Brazil is associated with the growth of agribusiness, starting in the 1990s, which fosters a “rural-sertaneja-country network” analyzed by the sociologist João Marcos Alem. In this scenario, there is a considerable growth in the number of rodeos in the country, in which “an association of events is carried out, and musical shows are an important attraction for ensuring the presence of mass audiences” (Santos 2000: 333). Although attractions of these shows are “popular artists of varied musical genres”, it is “mainly sertanejos singers and duets” that will gain prominence (Santos 2000: 333). While, on the one hand, the música sertaneja undergoes transformations in its trajectory, mainly “with the insertion of popular musical practices in the commercial format, reflecting and mediating the cultural and migrant trajectory of the hinterland to the city” (Ulhôa 2004: 64), on the other hand, from a musical point of view, “this genre remains with the use and appreciation of a characteristic vocal style, with specific technical demands”, such as singing in pairs and the use of the first and second voices (Ulhôa 2004: 64). This text discusses processes of musical and professional socialization that sertanejas duets experienced in order to establish themselves as music professionals. This is part of a study (Soares Marques 2017) done with eight sertanejo duets located in the Triângulo Mineiro region of Minas Gerais, which has a strong connection with the “sertanejo world culture”. This leads to the “ubiquity of sertaneja music” in the cities that compose this region (Ulhôa 2004). The following pairs were interviewed: Carol and Ariane (CeA), Marco and Mario (MeM), Luiz Mazza (Luiz Mazza and Luciano ̶ LMeL), Igor and Camila (IeC), Welling- ton and Nilo (WeN), Victor Freitas and Felipe (VFeF), Neto and Ralf (NeR), Lucas Reis and Thácio (LReT). Central issues addressed by the study were: Why did these people want to sing sertanejo? How did they graduate? And how do/did they act? What experiences have they had with the sertanejo universe and what do these singers sing today? How can these musical and professional experiences be understood from the point of view of musical education?

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Within the qualitative approach, the study adopted as a methodology of the case study, using the semi-structured interview as a data collection technique, as well as audiovisual documents produced by and on sertanejas duet, available on social networks. The conducting of this type of interview presented some methodological challenges. The interviews with sertanejas duets involved two people talking about the unit, the pair. Thus, the questions were conceived and elaborated for the unit, with two people interviewed at the same time. At times, questions were directed to the first or second voice, but they still referred to the unit, to understand the processes of musical socialization and professionalization of pairs. For the data analysis, concepts of primary socialization (Berger and Luckman 1999; Setton 2008), professional socialization (Dubar 2005) and musical socialization (Müller 1992) were used. These concepts were able to collaborate with the understanding of the interest of singing, singing música sertaneja and singing in pairs, considering musical experiences that interviewees experienced from the instances of socialization, such as family, group of friends, media and school. Several researches have been dedicated to the issue of country music in Brazil (cf. Alonso 2011; Pereira 2011; Pinto 2008). However, in describing and analyzing the experiences of musical and professional socialization of sertanejos musicians, from the point of view of music education, we hope to contribute to the dialogue between popular music and music education fields. Socialization and musical learning According to Setton, the socialization process “adds diffuse, unsystematic, unin- tentional and unconscious actions, acquired in a homeopathic way, in the family, school, religion, work or groups of friends” (2008: 2). In this way, “the family can also be considered as responsible for the transmission of an economic and cultural heritage”. In order to understand those who learn in the family environment, it is necessary “to observe ways of using culture and to relate to it, that is, opportunities of a pedagogical work of cultural, moral and ethical transmission of each family environment” (Setton 2002: 111). The first musical socializations of interviewed singers were present in the family environment. All the pairs had a story about the interest in singing related to the family. Felipe (VFeF 2016) recalls: “Dad has always influenced us in music... Giving instruments... At the age of ten, Vitor [brother] won drums, I won a bass”. There were no musicians in the family, but their parents always enjoyed music and supported their involvement with it. For Wellington (WeN), the interest in singing is related to references of musical listening of his family, because his family “consumes sertanejo”. Nilo (WeN) remembers that at parties and family gatherings, music was always pre-

[email protected] 206 Jaqueline Soares Marques, Jusamara Souza sent. His grandfather had a habit of whistling and humming, and he points out: “It was because [the family] was implanting it [the music] in us, you know... without noticing we were already learning Milionário and José Rico, and we started to like what they heard too” (WeN 2016). Milionário and José Rico was one of the most famous duets of country music in Brazil and they became known as the “golden throats”. Thácio (LReT) says that what made them like “sertanejo was the fact that they were born in the middle of the sertanejo” and to have families that belong to the “sertanejo scenario” (LReT 2016). So, they grew up listening to “all sertanejos”. Another example of how this musical socialization in family happened is presented by Lucas Reis (LReT):

My grandfather always liked to sing, although, in fact, he did not show [viola caipira]... He showed involuntarily. He did not come to me and said: “Oh, my son, this is viola caipira”. No... We saw that. Because before I accompanied him on the guitar, at the parties he played, I accompanied him on the guitar and he played the viola. Then I said: “Oh, I’m going to try to learn it”. Then he taught me the first step, because we always played the songs of Tião Carreiro, of other pairs at the time. So, I grew up, I listened to other pairs, I got inspiration from other guitar players (LReT 2016). Taking into account the learning that takes place in family environments helps in the reflection of some expressions that the interviewed duets use as: “Ah, the country music comes from the cradle”, or “this song is rooted”. These expressions denote learning that takes place both in “moments of teaching/learning in the family, described as regular”, and in “times when ‘learning’ was not known, revealing the existence of a ‘diffuse’ way of learning”, according to an analysis made by Gomes (2009: 188), who discusses the logic of a musical education in a family of musicians. Setton (2005) discusses particularities of the contemporary socialization process and, in dialogue with Lahire, says that “what we live with our family, at school, with friends or at work, is not summed up simply” to our socializing experiences. For Setton, it is possible to think about these experiences “as not being systematically coherent, homogeneous and compatible”, since “more and more precocious contact with other universes, besides family, is present in our lives” (2005: 344). In the case of sertanejas duets interviewed, besides the family, the first musical socializations could also be understood from the coexistence with friends. Victor Freitas and Felipe lived with friends who listened to música sertaneja. From this relationship with his friends, Felipe says he got “a love in sertanejo” and decided: “man, I want to sing, that’s it, I think it’s too cute” (VFeF 2016).

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The musical socialization through the media could also be covered when the duo Marco and Mario, who are brothers, say that they “heard country music on the cassette player of their father's car when they were going to travel” (МеМ 2014). Faced with this, one must consider that music “cannot be imagined independent of the media. It is experienced and transmitted by the media on a large scale and reveals itself as an integral component of culture” (Schmeling 2005: 33). Carol and Ariane, and Igor and Camila were pairs who had the experience of studying in conservatories and with private music teachers. Ariane is also a teacher at a music school and after she set up the duo, many people started applying to learn to sing sertanejo with her. This systematized musical study, especially in conservatories, seems to have been of great importance, but, as Setton affirms, “the school is no longer an organizing axis of experiences; reflects a complexity of intra and extra-school interests” (2002: 112). This question reflects on the popular music that students learn in formalized spaces, about what should happen specifically in a sertanejo class and in a sertanejo singing class. Learning to sing singing: Specificities of sertanejas duets Studying the singing of sertanejas duets involves: how they learned to sing together, how they discovered their voices, as well as learning of singing in general and sertanejo singing. Singing in pairs required singers to learn musical and vocal aspects in order to sing and sound like a duo. It required them to think about resources to solve issues, such as: finding the best tone for both, how to conduct their voices, thinking of the timbre and the vocal dynamics. In sertanejas duets there is a singer who is/does the first voice and another who is/does the second voice. We use both verbs “to be” and “to do”, because these functions in duets are related to being “the first” singer, or being “the second”. In other words, to be the first voice, “the master voice”, or “the second voice”. The choice of who makes the first and who makes the second voice also goes through questions of vocal technique, such as the vocal extension of each singer of the pair. Those who get lower notes usually make a second voice, and those who reach higher notes make the first voice. For female and mixed duets, combining voices has some peculiarities. Igor and Camila say they need to “adapt the songs” (IeC 2015). When they sing songs, whose chorus is in an uncomfortable tone for Igor to sing, he starts singing the song as the first voice and, at the moment of the chorus, Camila sings as the first and Igor as the second voice. The definition of voices is also related to the fact that some singers desired to be the second one, even before constituting their duets, as is the case of Ariane. When she does some part of the song as “the first voice, it is not as comfortable as when [she makes] the second voice” (IeC

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2015). In addition to this choice of Ariane, the duo also experienced the gender issue for this definition of singing the first and the second voice. In the 1980s and 1990s, some sertanejas duets and singers, such as Irmãs Galvão, As Marci- anas, Mineirinhas, Roberta Miranda, Nalva Aguiar and Inezita Barroso emerged (duets cited by the interviewees). However, from the late 1990s until the 2010, such female duets and singers were without representatives in Brazilian country music. They believe that female duets had lost ground in the sertanejo market, mainly because of the way they sang: “trembling the voice too much” and using a voice-over that “runs away from the natural” (Carol ̶ CeA 2014). Carol and Ariane sought a way to create a new generation of sertanejas singers and duets, such as Maiara and Maraisa, Simone and Simaria, Marília Mendonça and Paula Fernandes. This generation brought a song that does not have an acute vocal tone, allowing second voices to make the second voice and using both the third higher and the sixth lower. These aspects bring a new sound to the female voice, different from the one used by the singers of the 1980 and the 1990, who sang in very acute regions and the second voice was made in parallel thirds, which generated a discomfort when listened to for a long time. The second voice has an importance for the sertanejo musical genre, but it is not only about the aesthetic question of singing in pairs. The second voice has several meanings for those who experience singing as a duo, both for the first and second voices. The second voice is a bridge between the aesthetic and the meaningful for the one who sings, and it is the second voice that characterizes the singing and being a duet. Ralf (NeR) cannot sing “if he does not have the second voice”, because he understands that “his voice depends a lot on a second voice”, since “his whole life he sang like that”. For him, “the second voice is a support. Support because it modulates what I [am] doing, it completes me” (NeR 2016). This way of singing, for Neto (NeR), “is something ours, Brazilian”. He be- lieves that “the second one in the sertanejo is essential because it is the one that gives the harmonization of the duet”. According to him, it is “the second voice that gives life to music totally. The duet stands out with the second voice, because singing alone is cool, but the sertanejo is characterized by that” (NeR 2016). “The seconds” have learned to sing the second voice by listening to recordings and concerts of other seconds, as Lucas Reis (LReT 2016) tries to explain: “Singing along with them [...] and listening, we try to reach the same line and understand it”. Each pair was elaborating their strategies of appropriation of the sertanejo song. The process of how these singers learn to sing in pairs is something con-

[email protected] Musical formation of popular singers in Brazil 209 tinuous and demands coexistence, besides experimentation to build and learn how to sing sertanejo in pair. Professional socialization of sertanejas duets During the interviews, interviewees used the following words: professional, profession. The meaning of these words was that all the work, the investment of constituting a duo, had a direct relationship with the “living music”: “Let’s form a duo because we like to sing”. But the formation of the duo was a reason to get to their professionalization. The interviewed duets revealed how the beginning of their career happened, the reasons why they decided to form a duo and how they started to walk the paths of the profession collectively. Duets told us about the strategies they had to use to get places to show, after all, besides their personal motivations, the fact of singing together is a way of taking this sertanejo singing as a profession. Some duets have career managers and entrepreneurs. Others get spaces to present themselves through a network of contacts (concert contractors, bar owners and night clubs), which is established throughout their careers. Considering the musical and professional socialization of duets, we identified the moments in which they became professionals and in which they already acted as a sertaneja duet. These instances were: stages, recording studios, rehearsals and the learning of singing and singing in pairs. The stage, as an instance of musical and professional socialization, was shown as a space in which learning became possible. The preparation to be in it - the organization of the repertoire, interactions that take place on the stage ̶ singers, band, sound technicians, roadies, the relationship with the audience, the use of technologies that are necessary to amplify the sound ̶ these are, among others, learnings that come from the stage experience of those who live it, that are only possible by being in the show. The recording studio was also a space in which duets acquired professional experiences. The voice that leaves the stage for the studio goes through modifications and it requires peculiar learnings to be recorded. To think about singing in voice recording situations is to think of a multi-layered learning process, from the preparation of what to record to the choice of recording technique, which will be intermediated by the music producer. The music producer is the great media- tor of the learning that takes place in this environment. Besides music production, the interviewees regarded the producer as a vocal coach. In this sense, the duo Luiz Mazza and Luciano said that when they were going to record they had to choose the tone of the songs and the one who helped them in this decision was the music producer who did a voice mapping of the vocal extension of the pair to

[email protected] 210 Jaqueline Soares Marques, Jusamara Souza discover that “a median voice frequency”, so the duo could “sing at that frequency where the voices mix” (LMeM 2015). Rehearsals occurred with bands that accompany the duet or between singers of the duet. Rehearsals with bands had a planning and systematization to work the repertoire of the concerts and to guarantee the connectedness – between the band and singers – at the moment of presentations. When they started their careers, all duets had and still have perspectives on the courses they should take. Some duets seek to keep the show schedule with an average of eight to ten presentations a month, others want to leave their current jobs and live only from singing, others want the recognition of the songs they record, others still have the dream of “bursting”, to be successful and have visibility. The career of duets is a continuous process of transformations and learnings. One wants to become professional in the Brazilian country music market, to live to sing in pairs. Each one of the duo and each duo had their reasons to begin this journey and also have their reasons for remaining or not in this career. Reflections for the teaching of popular music from the case of sertanejas duets The empirical field of this research and presented in this text reveals only a part about how popular singers of sertaneja music in Brazil learn to sing and how their musical and vocal formation becomes effective. Looking at these socializing musical experiences, we realize that learning music does not only take place in a “formal” learning process, intentional, but also in a diffused way, in everyday life, when one learns without being aware of what one is learning (Setton 2005, 2008; Souza 2008). When we also analyze other possibilities of thinking about learning music, besides schools, conservatories and higher courses, the research reveals that learning music by sertanejas duets is effective in the processes of musical and professional socialization. Interviewed duets socialized musically with their families, friends and media. Subsequently, they socialized professionally, and began to see music from another perspective ̶ as a profession. They discovered ways to become professional, and this happened on the stage, in recording studios, in spontaneous rehearsals, in learning to sing in pairs. Müller (1992) calls attention to a theoretical problem when one learns from the experiences of musical socialization, which is the absence of a didactic theory; therefore, learning processes that occur at this level are not didactic. Perhaps that is why so many popular musicians and singers comment on the difficulty of the profession, not only for the financial reward and recognition of the profession, but for the fact that learning from experience is more difficult due to the

[email protected] Musical formation of popular singers in Brazil 211 lack of didactics. This situation makes them always in search of training, in the sense of always being in the process of discovery. These discussions in the area of music education can contribute to the area of popular music mainly in terms of learning music and popular singing, and to help answer the following questions: who teaches/learns popular music today and in what way is popular music being learned and taught? What is the purpose of popular music and what are its professional perspectives? All the interviewed duets are aware of where they are aiming to arrive professionally, each one with its objectives. Within these aspirations, duets are also aware of their abilities and realities that surround the labor market linked to Bra- zilian country music, which can make career dreams come true. References Bibliography Alonso, G. 2011. Cowboys do asfalto: Música sertaneja e modernização brasileira. PhD. Universidade Federal Fluminense, Rio de Janeiro. Berger, P. and Luckman, T. 1999. A construção Social da Realidade. Tradução de Ernesto de Carvalho. Lisboa: Dinalivro. Dubar, C. 2005. A socialização: Construção das identidades sociais e profissionais. São Paulo: Martins Fontes. Gomes, C. H. S. 2009. Educação musical na família: As lógicas do invisível. DMA. UFRGS, Porto Alegre. Müller, R. 1992. Musikalische Erfarung als soziale Erfarung. Aspekte soziokultureller Musikpädagogik. Musikpädagogische Forschung 13: 52 ̶ 63. Pereira, O. D. 2011. No rádio e nas telas: O rural da música sertaneja em sua versão cinematográfica. Marília ̶ São Paulo: Oficina Universitária ̶ Cultura Acadêmica. Pinto, J. P. do A. 2008. A Viola Caipira de Tião Carreiro. MA. Instituto de Artes, Universidade Estadual de Campinas, Campinas. Santos, C. R. dos. 2010. O “boom” da música sertaneja nas décadas de 1980 e 1990: Ganhando o mercado e a mídia. In N. Dângelo Ed. História e cultura popular: Saberes e linguagens. Uberlândia: EDUFU: 317 ̶ 336. Schmeling, А. 2005. Cantar com as mídias eletrônicas: Um estudo de caso com jovens. DMA. UFRGS, Porto Alegre. Setton, M. da G. J. ̶ 2002. Família, escola e mídia: Um campo com novas configurações. Educação e Pesquisa 28 (1): 107 ̶ 116. 2005. A particularidade do processo de socialização contemporâneo. Tempo social, revista de sociologia da USP 17 (2): 335 ̶ 350. 2008. A noção de socialização na sociologia contemporânea: Um ensaio teórico. Boletim SOCED 6: 1 ̶ 20. Soares Marques, J. 2017. Musical and Professional Socialization in the Experiences of Professionalism of Sertaneja Duet: A Case Study with Singers from the Region of the Triângulo Mineiro/Minas Gerais. DMA. UFRGS, Porto Alegre.

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Souza, J. 2008. Aprender e ensinar música no cotidiano. Porto Alegre: Sulina. Ulhôa, M. T. 2004. Música sertaneja em Uberlândia na década de 1990. ArtCultura 9: 56 ̶ 65.

Interviews CeA ̶ Carol and Ariane. 2014. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques, 29 September. Uberlândia ̶ Minas Gerais IeC ̶ Igor and Camila. 2015. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques, Uberlândia ̶ Minas Gerais, 17 October. LMeL ̶ Luiz Mazza and Luciano. 2015. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques, Uberlândia ̶ Minas Gerais, 25 February. LReT ̶ Lucas Reis and Thácio. 2016. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques, Uber- lândia ̶ Minas Gerais, 11 April. MeM ̶ Marco and Mario. 2014. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques, Uberlândia ̶ Minas Gerais, 21 October. NeR ̶ Neto and Ralf. 2016. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques, Uberlândia ̶ Minas Gerais, 08 March. VFeF ̶ Victor Freitas and Felipe. 2016. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques, Uber- lândia ̶ Minas Gerais, 20 February. WeN ̶ Wellington and Nilo. 2016. Interviewed by Jaqueline Soares Marques , Uber- lândia ̶ Minas Gerais, 16 February.

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Popular music video

[email protected] Rock music videos in Serbia since the 1990s: The curious case of Jarboli

Ivana Medić Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, Institute of Musicology, Belgrade, Serbia [email protected] In this article I focus on the remarkable music videos of Jarboli – one of the most influential alternative rock bands from Belgrade, Serbia, who have been active since the early 1990s. I argue that, in their total oeuvre, music video is an art form equal to other creative outlets that the band members and their closest associates have dabbled in throughout their careers (including: playing instruments, composing and/or producing music, writing poetry and novels, producing and directing short films, drawing, painting, making collages and presenting off-beat radio shows). I analyze four music videos that illustrate the band’s development from a quirky indie attraction to the most accomplished musicians of their generation, but also document and provide witty and insightful commentaries on the changes that Serbian society has gone through during the past two decades.

Keywords: Jarboli, music video, alternative rock, the 1990s

Introduction Since the 1990s there has been an exceptional rise of interest in the studies of popular music in Serbia. Aside from popular music becoming a part of the academic curricula at the University of Arts in Belgrade, as well as several private universities and colleges (e.g. Faculty of Media and Communications, University Singidunum; NOVA Academy of Arts; SAE Institute; etc.), there are also independent associations such as CEPOM (Center for the Study of Popular Music) active in the field. In 2016 the first dissertation dedicated to starogradska muzika (one of the many genres of Serbian popular music) was defended at the Depart- ment of Ethnomusicology of the Faculty of Music, University of Arts in Bel- grade (Dumnić 2016). The study programs at these institutions are quite varied: some focus on practical aspects, while others are dedicated to the sociological, anthropological or literary aspects of various strands of popular music. But while

[email protected] 216 Ivana Medić this nascent area is fast expanding in many directions, one particular segment has remained neglected – namely, music videos. So far, only two major research projects were dedicated to this topic: first, Ivana Kronja’s pioneering MPhil dissertation on the notorious turbo-folk genre (1998), defended at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade and later published as a monograph Smrtonosni sjaj: masovna psihologija i estetika turbo-folka (The Deathly Glow: Mass Phycholo- gy and the Aesthetics of Turbo-Folk) (Kronja 2001). The second one is an ambi- tious and comprehensive, yet somewhat rambling doctoral dissertation by Irena Šentevska (2014), defended at the University of Arts in Belgrade (as yet unpublished). Šentevska traces the development of the music video both in local (Yugoslav, Serbian) and international contexts and criticizes Serbian academic community for allowing “certain media forms and phenomena to ‘die’ before even meriting minimal academic attention” (Šentevska 2014: 12) – in stark contrast to the ample attention that pop music video has attracted in the West at least since the 1980s (cf. Frith 1988). While Šentevska has attempted to cover the entire landscape of popular music genres in Serbia, in a recent article I discuss selected rock music videos (Me- dić 2018 forthcoming); however, my research has focused on the period when Serbia was still one of the constituent republics of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. It goes without saying that the contemporary cultural context of the (post)transitional Serbia is hardly comparable to the socialist period. In the present study I focus on the remarkable music video output of Jarboli – one of the most influential alternative rock bands from Belgrade. The band was founded at the outset of the tragic 1990s (the decade marred by the break-up of Yugoslavia) by a group of childhood friends from the Belgrade neighborhood of Dorćol – Boris Mladenović (b. 1975) and brothers Daniel Kovač (b. 1974) and Žolt Kovač (b. 1975), who teamed up with a formidable drummer Nemanja Aćimović (b. 1976). The name Jarboli (pronounced Yar-boh-lee, meaning The Masts) is a nod to the similarly pronounced Yardbirds; but it was also chosen because band members are exceptionally tall (the average height in the band is about 195cm or 6’5”!) The group has never changed its lineup, except for the fact that the acclaimed Serbian pianist Sonja Lončar (b. 1978), another childhood friend from Dorćol, has long served as an informal fifth member. Lončar was initially drafted as a stand in for Daniel Kovač while he completed the mandato- ry military service, but she remained with the band for almost 15 years. Together with yet another childhood friend from Dorćol, Miloš Tomić (b. 1976), Mladenović and the Kovač brothers were also members of the independent artistic collective Klipani u pudingu (Bumpkins in Pudding). Regardless of their actual academic specializations, all members of this tightly-knit circle of friends have dabbled in playing instruments, composing and/or producing music,

[email protected] Rock music videos in Serbia since the 1990s: The curious case of Jarboli 217 writing poetry and novels, producing and directing short films, drawing, painting, making collages and presenting off-beat radio shows (Radosavljević 1996: 21), all in the spirit of their decades-long camaraderie and shared artistic interests and pursuits. Mladenović and Žolt Kovač graduated from the Faculty of Fine Arts, University of Arts in Belgrade, while Tomić graduated film directing from the Academy of Arts in Belgrade and completed postgraduate studies in film animation in Prague, Czech Republic. Nowadays, Žolt Kovač, Tomić and Lončar are employed as university or college professors. Mladenović is currently a full-time member not only of Jarboli, but also of bands Veliki prezir (Grand Contempt) and Škrtice (The Niggards), an in-demand music producer and a true spiritus movens of the Serbian alternative rock scene. Aćimović is also a member of several bands and active as a composer of applied and electronic music. As to Daniel Kovač, although his day job is that of an electrical engineer, he has published four novels, released six albums with his other band Jesenji orkestar (The Autumnal Orchestra) and worked as a painter and performance artist. Hence the total output of all members of this collective includes several books, countless albums and singles, dozens of individual or collective artistic exhibitions, music videos and other short films, not to mention hundreds of concerts, with no sign of slowing down anytime soon. Boris Mladenović and Daniel Kovač constitute the main songwriting duo in Jarboli, although all band members contribute to arrangements. On the one hand, their songs are distinguished by an intellectual stance and an almost surgical dis- section of the everyday life. On the other hand, they exhibit a profound human- ism, an interest and sympathy for the little man, complemented by the band members’ social activism, which has led the critic Dragan Ambrozić to label their style as “humanistic pop”:

Nonchalant in their everyday manner, believers in the power of the word, they play in a band because they want to say something […] The unique lyrical endeavor of these pop acrobats combines ironic distance with warmth, which they lavish gener- ously upon the heroes of their songs (Ambrozić 2012). While Jarboli’s music and lyrics have attracted considerable attention from rock critics, their music videos have been somewhat neglected, although they constitute an indispensable part of their intellectual-humanist aesthetics. I argue that in Jarboli’s multisided artistic output, music video is an art form equal to everything else they do. Many of their videos were conceived and/or directed by the band members themselves, implementing a peculiar “low-fi” and “do-it- yourself” aesthetics. Yet, in Irena Šentevska’s dissertation, which is 608 pages long, Jarboli are mentioned only twice (2014: 204, 215). Furthermore, the only article dedicated to their music videos was published seventeen years ago, in

[email protected] 218 Ivana Medić

2001 – the author Miroslav Karić only described the videos from the beginning of their career:

Whether we watch music videos that resemble intimate, documentary films […] or those more artistic […] in which everything is present – from the expressionist themes, the dadaist concept of the absurd to the surrealistic principle of the subcon- scious – they always exhibit an interest in proximity, contact, and a kind of personal, almost sensual approach to vision […]. They wish to achieve an interactive relationship, to draw the viewer into a “dialogue”, and ultimately, to secure his/her participation in thinking about the situation created by the clip (Karić 2001: 24–25). The importance of this form of expression was confirmed when, in December 2012, Jarboli organized a retrospective of their old music videos at the Students’ Cultural Center in Belgrade. They screened a total of twenty four music videos, i.e. short films, interspersed with recollections by their directors, cameramen and other participants in their production – thus emphasizing not only the visual aspect of their total output, but also the network of artists with whom they explored different modes of creative cooperation. I will now analyze four music videos, filmed at different stages of their career. These videos not only illustrate the band’s development from a quirky indie attraction to the most accomplished musicians of their generation, but also document and provide witty and insightful commentaries on the changes that Serbi- an society has gone through during the past two decades. Samo ponekad (Only sometimes) Written and sung by Daniel Kovač, the song “Samo ponekad” (B92 1999) was one of the band’s earliest hits, released on their first official album Dobrodošli (Welcome). By a strange twist of fate, the album was released on 24 March 1999, that coincided with the beginning of the exceptionally unwelcome NATO bombing of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia that would continue until 10 June 1999. Thus all promotional activities were cancelled, and many copies of the album were destroyed or stolen from the depots of their label B92. Although this album never received the attention that it deserved, today it is regarded as one of the key releases of the Belgrade alternative rock scene from the 1990s. As to the video, instead of featuring the young and handsome band members, the directors (Daniel Kovač himself, and Miloš Tomić, who also served as a cameraman) opted to showcase – a flock of sheep. The sheep connote complex symbolism in the local traditional and popular culture and mythology. “Sheep” is a derogatory slang word for stupid, easily fooled people; referring to someone as a “sheep” or “lamb” can also signify naivety, inexperience or helplessness when confronted with those personified by aggressive predators; the idiom “black

[email protected] Rock music videos in Serbia since the 1990s: The curious case of Jarboli 219 sheep” describes the odd one out; etc. A salaš (farm) near Subotica, at the far north of Vojvodina, served as an impromptu film set. Kovač and Tomić were assisted by a kindred spirit, an amateur film director and artist Stipan Milodanović (b. 1974) from Subotica, one of the founders of the organization K.LJ.U.N. (The Club of Art and Science Enthusiasts). “Samo ponekad” is a mid-tempo song, utilizing the verse-chorus structure, with a bridge section after the second chorus, followed by a brief guitar solo and the final chorus. The lyrics describe a resigned, misunderstood protagonist, who attempts to break a communication barrier between him and his (imaginary) interlocutor. The singer asserts that he is “completely ordinary, not at all crazy” and confesses: “I can do various things, I can do whatever I want, but not today, today is not my day”. The pairing of such despondent lyrics with the scenes of sheep running around, within the confines of the farm, filmed in uniform yellow- ish tones, can be interpreted in many ways. Perhaps our protagonist feels inade- quate and naive; perhaps his resignation is caused by a realization that he had been fooled and led astray; perhaps this realization provokes a desire in him to break free from the flock, “to leave, to fly”. The song was written when Slo- bodan Milošević was still in power and the country placed under international sanctions, with its citizens restricted from international travel and many other activities. Hence the images of sheep stuck in a fenced farm, in the monotonous landscape of the Pannonian Plain, perfectly conveyed the desperation of the young generation, unable to fulfill their potential. Yet, this generational anthem has transcended the moment when it was written and remained the band’s concert staple until the present day. Rezolucija UN (Resolution of the UN) The song “Rezolucija UN” was first released on the band’s EP Jedan čovek, jedna rezolucija (One Man, One Resolution) (Mojo Beat/Odličan hrčak 2005), and subsequently re-released on the band’s third official full-length album Buđanje proleća (The Rotting of Spring) (Odličan hrčak 2006). This is a pun to the title of the Broadway musical The Spring Awakening – translated into Serbi- an as Buđenje proleća. The band has exploited the similarity of the verbs “buđenje” (awakening) and “buđanje” (rotting) to express their dissatisfaction with the slow progress of reforms in the Serbian society after the dethroning of Milošević and the stagnant, “rotten” political atmosphere. The title of this song, written and sung by Daniel Kovač, references resolutions and other decrees passed by the United Nations and other international organizations during and after the conflicts in Yugoslavia. However, Kovač does not expect a real or imaginary deus ex machina to bring a resolution to an everyday problem: instead, he proclaims that every individual is responsible for his or her destiny, and that

[email protected] 220 Ivana Medić they should take charge of their life. The lyrics of the song are direct and immediate: the poet addresses the imaginary listener, describes his/her body as a functional biological organism full of hard-working organs, and then orders him/her: “Straighten up, move your skeleton, pump blood, think of something!” The song ends with countless repeats of the phrase “One man, one resolution”. The music that accompanies such a direct attack on the individual or collective apathy is equally inventive, departing from the typical verse-chorus song structure. In the first part of the song, while the poet describes the bodily functions of his ad- dressee, the music is based on a funky riff with elaborate rhythmic accompaniment and several instrumental breaks. As the singer begins to shout his call to action, music speeds up, saturated with frantic guitars and jerky drums; finally, it returns to the initial funky mode, while the singer reiterates his conclusion that everyone should make their own resolutions. The music video for this song was directed by Miloš Gojković, alias “Gojko iz Čačka” (Gojko from Čačak – a town in Western Serbia). Although born in Čačak, Miloš Gojković is yet another of the band’s Dorćol cohorts, the owner of Studio Gojko, a visual artist and animator, an occasional musician, and their former fellow presenter of the cult radio show Ritam srca (The Rhythm of the Heart) at Radio B92. In the music video for “Rezolucija UN”, the band members do not appear in starring roles, but only in cameos. Thus Žolt Kovač appears in the first scene of the video as a fictional TV presenter who ends up on the cover of a glossy mag “Popularno zlo” (Popular Evil); his brother Daniel first appears on the big screen slapped onto the building known as The Palace Albania in central Belgrade, and later during the frantic mid-section; an animated version of Boris Mladenović performs a guitar solo towards the end of the song; all band-members are also briefly shown as animated bureaucrats who stamp the “resolutions”; and there are also several scenes of the band playing in a studio – however, their faces are not shown, but only their hands. The main role in this music video is played by the band’s suitably lanky friend, going by the nickname of Tica (Bird). At the beginning of the video, he wanders the streets of central Belgrade, picks up a magazine with Žolt on the cover and then throws it away, disgusted with some of the images that he saw in it. Afterwards, Tica sees Daniel’s face on the big screen, and also on the smaller screens of the TV sets in a shop window; Dan- iel’s words visibly affect him. Then Tica begins to hear Daniel’s commands and screams in his head, shaking and spinning in the midst of Knez Mihailova street, the main pedestrian zone in Belgrade. These scenes are interspersed with scenes in an abstract studio, where an animated version of Tica is multiplied into thousands of identical clones, who await to receive stamps with the inscription “One man, one resolution”. This striking video perfectly complements the song’s pas-

[email protected] Rock music videos in Serbia since the 1990s: The curious case of Jarboli 221 sionate plea to wake up, stand tall and make one’s own resolutions. Such a message was particularly poignant in the “rotten”, stagnant, insufficiently progressive atmosphere of the mid-noughties Serbia. Podrška je važna (Support is important) Written and sung by Boris Mladenović, the song “Podrška je važna” is another generational anthem by Jarboli, who proclaim the importance of support provided by friends and a wider community. This song was initially released as a single in 2009 and subsequently included in the band’s 2011 album Zabava (Enter- tainment) (Exit Music 2011/Odličan hrčak 2012). This is a fast rock song with highly evocative political lyrics: “It’s no longer important to agree on everything / We have sought the Devil and danced with him / He is always present in every system / Support is important to deal with him”. Towards the end of the song Mladenović frantically repeats: “What kind of a scene is this, it should not be / that horses are riding people!” The music video for this song was produced by Jarboli and the studio Digimedia, where Boris Mladenović was working at that time. The song verse that mentions dancing with the Devil inspired Mladenović to conceive the entire music video as a frenetic dance routine. The video, directed by Miloš Tomić, with the camera work by Biljana Ristivojčević Bižić, features remarkable dancers Ivana Džambić and Milan Ločić from the dance studio Aurora, while the band members are, again, nowhere to be seen. The flawlessly performed routine is visually enhanced by effects inspired by the work of the acclaimed Scottish Canadian animator and film director Norman McLaren (1914–1987). By pairing colorful animations with the fast and furious dance, Tomić created a striking music video with a simple and straightforward message: whether we continue our headless dance with the Devil, or gather the courage to confront him, is entirely up to us. Ništa (Nothing) Written and sung by Boris Mladenović, the song “Ništa” was released in 2012 as the fourth and final single from the album Zabava. Jarboli were perfectly uncon- cerned with its radio-unfriendly length of 8 minutes, since they knew that their core audience would appreciate this colossal and cathartic slow ride. In an interview Mladenović explained the idea behind the lyrics: “It’s a song about depression, but also about being responsible for it […] A man essentially creates his own depression” (Nikolić 2012). The music video was again produced by Jarboli and Digimedia. Due to the song’s epic proportions, the director Rastko Petrović and his cameraman Ale- ksandar Pavlović had the opportunity to make a genuine short art film, publicly

[email protected] 222 Ivana Medić premiered on 5 December 2012 at the New Media Hub in Belgrade. The entire video was filmed in the psychodelic ambient of the deep forest that surrounds the Gruža Lake in central Serbia, near the town of Kragujevac. The only person that appears in the video is Mladenović, who explained: “We decided to play with the film language. The images do not merely support the sound […] There is no dialogue, nothing, just emotions and an abstract narrative” (Mladenović 2012). The director Petrović was inspired by Branimir Šćepanović’s 1974 novel Usta puna zemlje (Mouth Full of Earth) about a depressed, terminally ill man who returns to his native Montenegro to die in solitude, only to find himself running for his life, hunted by two men. In the video, Mladenović plays an elegantly dressed man who runs through the forest in the night. Whilst running, Mladenović takes off and throws away anything that could slow him down – his coat, jacket, tie, shirt, shoes, trousers and underwear, until he arrives at the lake butt naked. The video was filmed in February-March of 2012, in extremely low temperatures (about -10 C / 15 F)! Mladenović explained the reasons for putting himself at risk of freezing to death: “We needed that suspense and real problems, we wanted the drama to be as authentic as possible. I believe that we succeeded – this video possesses a pure visual-emotional drama” (Nikolić 2012). Mladenović also fell and injured himself, not to mention that the entire crew was once arrested by the overly suspi- cious policemen who patrolled the area! Although the audience does not know whether the protagonist is running from someone, or perhaps trying to catch up with the world that is constantly ahead of him “by two to four hours”, as the lyrics go, the fact that there are several visual self-citations in this video (namely, the suit that Mladenović is wearing here is the same one that he wore in the music video for the song “Ja opet biću tu” (I Will Be Here Again) filmed some ten years earlier, and he is also sporting the same moustache) strongly suggests that he is actually running away from – himself. After a frantic run, the protagonist arrives at the lake and comes to a profound realization that people should “try to find reasons to love one another, if possible”, and also “close their eyes and say what they really want to see”. Thus, Jarboli’s recipe for overcoming depression is to be honest with oneself and to focus on the reasons why we should love our fellow man. Conclusion All of Jarboli’s music videos were filmed during the past two decades – the time when music industry in Serbia (and elsewhere) went through profound changes. As analyzed by Šentevska, on the one hand, the development of digital technology lowered production costs and fostered the emergence of numerous smaller

[email protected] Rock music videos in Serbia since the 1990s: The curious case of Jarboli 223 production houses that can film professional-quality music videos. On the other hand, reality shows and commercials have usurped the time once reserved for music videos at TV stations; thus, music videos are nowadays mostly consumed on the Internet, including Youtube and similar platforms (Šentevska 2014: 532). Aware that the commercial potential of their music videos was quite low and that they would not be played on the TV, Jarboli decided not to treat music videos as promos aimed at boosting the sales of their songs, but as short art films that complemented other strands of their many-sided artistic expression. These quirky films are intended to intrigue their audiences, whilst combining surprising, humorous, intellectual and trivial elements in order to comment on the various aspects of everyday life in Serbia during the last twenty years. Acknowledgements This article is a result of the projects City Sonic Ecology: Urban Soundscapes of Bern, Ljubljana and Belgrade, funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation within its SCOPES program; and Serbian Musical Identities within Local and Global Frameworks: Traditions, Changes, Challenges (No. 177004), financed by the Ministry of Education, Science and Technical Development of the Repub- lic of Serbia. References Bibliography Ambrozić, D. 2012. Od Džoa do Jarbola. In Katalog za izložbu fotografija Srdjana Veljovića Jarboli: 1996 – rad u toku. Belgrade: Students Cultural Center. Dumnić, M. 2016. Istorijski aspekti i savremene prakse izvođenja starogradske muzike. PhD: Faculty of Music, Belgrade. Frith, S. 1988. Music for Pleasure: Essays in the Sociology of Pop. Cambridge: Polity Press. Karić, M. 2001. Sad se tek dobro snima – O video klipovima grupe Jarboli. Remont – Art Magazin 3/4: 24–25. Kronja, I. 1998. Muzički video-spot u Srbiji ‘90-tih: Estetika filmskog jezika kao nosilac značenja stila neofolk kulture. MPhil: Faculty of Dramatic Arts, Belgrade. Kronja, I. 2001. Smrtonosni sjaj: Masovna psihologija i estetika turbo-folka. Belgrade: Tehnokratia. Medić, I. 2018. (forthcoming) The Aesthetics of Rock Music Videos in Yugoslav Music. In D. Š. Beard and Lj. Rasmussen Eds. Made in Yu. Abingdon: Routledge. Mladenović, B. 2012. “Dani Jarbola” u decembru u BG-u. B92.net. 4 December. https://www.b92.net/kultura/vesti.php?nav_category=271&yyyy=2012&mm=12&dd =04&nav_id=665899. Accessed: 20 December 2017. Nikolić, M. 2012. Čovek je sâm kovač svoje depresije – Intervju sa Borisom Mladeno- vićem. Popboks. 6 December. http://www.popboks.com/article/9256. Accessed: 20 December 2017.

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Radosavljević, D. 1996. Klipani u pudingu. In Pogled na zid — Umetnici i kritičari 1994– 1996. Belgrade: Fond for Open Society ̶ Center for Contemporary Art and Radio B92. Šentevska, I. 2014. Konstrukcija identiteta i medijski tekst: Reprezentacija urbanih trans- formacija Beograda u muzičkom videu. PhD. University of Arts, Belgrade. Discography Jarboli. ̶ 1999. Dobrodošli, B92, 24 March, Yugoslavia. 2005. Jedan čovek, jedna rezolucija, Mojo Beat/Odličan hrčak, Serbia and Montenegro. 2006. Buđanje proleća, Odličan hrčak, Serbia and Montenegro. 2011. Zabava (Digital download), Exit Music, Serbia. 2012. Zabava (Vinyl LP), Odličan hrčak, Serbia. Videography Samo ponekad. 1999. Dir. Daniel Kovač and Miloš Tomić, Jarboli/B92/K.LJ.U.N. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EpvFhcpEpcA. Accessed: 20 December 2017. Rezolucija UN. 2005. Dir. Miloš Gojković, Jarboli/Studio Gojko. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYKoLQYFR_A. Accessed: 20 December 2017. Podrška je važna. 2009. Dir. Miloš Tomić, Jarboli/Digimedia. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoO0SrxxFKE. Accessed: 20 December 2017. Ništa. 2012. Dir. Rastko Petrović, Jarboli/Digimedia. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-PQPgfHNlM. Accessed: 20 December 2017.

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Queen Katy Patra represents ancient Egypt in pop music

Yvonne Vosmann Georg-August-University, Seminar for Egyptology and Coptic Studies, Centre for Cultur- al Studies, Göttingen, Germany [email protected] The following discussion works out pertinent examples of the reception of ancient Egypt in the pop music video “Dark Horse” (Capitol 2013) by singer Katy Perry. Here, some proportions of film industry, pop music and the hip-hop genre are intertwined with the reception of ancient Egypt. Especially the visual presentation of this form of Egyptomania is observed and it shows the connection to already existing examples of popular culture. A final interpretation works out a Hellenized magical tradition in relation to Cleopatra as the adopted model, which lasts from antiquity until today. This contribution fills the previously existing gap for ancient Egypt as a form of the reception of antiquity in this segment of pop culture.

Keywords: ancient Egypt, Cleopatra, reception, visual elements, cultural history

Ancient Egypt as a theme in pop music Scholarship on the reception of ancient Egypt, often called Egyptomania (e.g. Fritze 2016), in the last decades relates to investigations in the field of architecture (e.g. Curl 1982), art (e.g. Humbert 1989) and cinematic presentations (e.g. Vosmann 2016). Pop music as a medium of medial reception (cf. Rice and Mac- Donald 2003) has not yet been taken into account from the perspective of the discipline of Egyptology or music studies. Another genre in which the reception of ancient Egypt is popular and yet outside Egyptological academic work is metal. Nevertheless, there are some publications about this culture as a theme in opera or music theatre (Arnold 1985; Grimm-Stadelmann et al. 2009; Maw 2007; Wagner 2000), where Egypt was adapted over the last centuries, for example in Verdi’s Aida or Mozart’s The Magic Flute.

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Music videos with ancient Egyptian style elements can sometimes be found in pop music productions: The first song, “Walk like an Egyptian” (Columbia Bangle-a-lang Music 1986), was performed by the American pop group The Bangles. The pharaonically dressed performers of the song act with an Egyptian- style arm and hand dancing gesture and with this refer to ancient Egyptian reliefs of offering bearers. This gesture can also be found in the performances by Wil- son, Keppel and Betty in their parodic act of the “Sand Dance” from the 1920s. The vaudeville group was well known for their Egyptian imagery on stage, for which the discovery of Tutankhamun in 1922 was responsible in particular. Mi- chael Jackson visualised a musical short story for his hit “Remember the Time” (Epic 1992), in which he uses the pharaonic time to perform as a magician, “en- chanting” the wife of the Egyptian king, played by Iman and Eddie Murphy respectively. DJ Bobo used the motif of the biblical Exodus with reference to Egypt in his song “Pray” (Yes Music /EMI/ ̶ Metrovynil /EAMS Lesser/ 1996). The official video shows a live on-stage performance with pillars covered in hieroglyphs and dancers in pharaonic costumes. Another music video which refers to this culture is “Everybody (Backstreets Back)” (Jive/Trans Continental 1997) by the Backstreet Boys, in which the singers play eerie roles like Egyptian mummies in a horrific castle. Queen Katy Patra and her pop-cultural Egypt Years later, the pop singer Katy Perry brings ancient Egypt back to popular music on a whole new level of visual presentation. In the trap and hip-hop song “Dark Horse” (Capitol 2013) and the accompanying music video from 27 Febru- ary 2014, directed by Mathew Cullen, she appears as her alter ego, Egyptian queen Katy Patra. With this, the US artist presented one of the most successful songs of 2014. It is the third single from her fourth album Prism and it was recorded together with the rapper Juicy J, who is featured as her duet partner. More than obvious references to ancient Egypt are mostly embedded in the visual elements of the music video rather than the actual lyrics. Content summary of the music video “Dark Horse” The introduction sets the story in its spatial and temporal context: Ancient Mem- phis ̶ as the listener is informed (00:02) in a time described as crazy and long ago ̶ of fictional Queen Katy Patra as an homage to Cleopatra. The city is not randomly chosen, seeing as it actually was the capital of ancient Egypt, and also an eponymous modern city in Tennessee with a connection to Dirty South hip- hop, Juicy J’s rap style. In a later scene, she receives numerous admirers in her palace, who shower her with gifts hoping to become her king. But she magically transforms them into things that the glamorous mistress really desires, because

[email protected] Queen Katy Patra represents ancient Egypt in pop music 227 the candidates do not meet her demands. The sixth and final contender convinces Katy Patra of his qualities as a partner by donating an oversized golden pyramid. Finally, Katy Patra accepts the gift, climbs on top of it and can visually be identified as the apotheosis of an Egyptian goddess. (It might be important here to mention a teaser released on 20 February 2014, in which the background story is explained further.) Egyptianising visual elements and their references Important for the perceptual effect of a visual representation of antiquity is authenticity. From the point of historical movie analysis, it is evoked by props of that time or the choice of location for example. All this can be achieved not only in web source natural environments, but also in the artificiality of a studio, aided by the usage of digital technologies, as it is done in the video. The look of the setting can convince the viewer of a historical theme, if it is linked to the values and customs of a time. Furthermore, it is important to keep the following in mind:

Often the Egyptianizing influences are second-hand, derived from the meretricious and often comically inaccurate interpretations of film, theatre and opera directors, thus piling fantasy upon illusion. This process of consumption and re-consumption, with images and products feeding off one another to produce increasingly complex forms and sets of references, can only take place in an era of mass communication (Rice and MacDonald 2003: 8). Finally, the producers of “Dark Horse” transform these criteria by choosing typical elements of the traditional reception of ancient Egypt in Western cultural history. In the following, some pertinent examples of the visual performance are shown. They are not chronologically listed, but content coherent described. Katy Patra on a Nile boat The introduction scene starts with a zoom on a boat on the Nile. Thereon Katy Patra can be seen lying under a canopy in a white Versace dress (Keirans 2014) with a white wig (00:25). Next to her, cat-headed female attendants, visually reminiscent of the Egyptian goddess Bastet, are dancing like The Bangles did in the 1980s. Bastet is directly related to music and dance in Egyptian belief. He- rodotus mentioned her worship in his second book of his History and introduced a popular imagination of the cat in ancient Egypt, lasting until today. One famous example is the popularity of the Gayer-Anderson-Cat in the British Muse- um. The basis of the boat (01:29) is a visual representation of antique boats (cf. Reeves 1997: 143), which typically include an animal head illustration called

[email protected] 228 Yvonne Vosmann

Protom (like a figurehead), both at the front and rear side. In Egypt these essays are usually connected to certain gods, but in the video they rather seem to be inspired by a dragon head known from Viking ships. The decoration is colourful with typical Egyptian colours like blue, used as lapis lazuli, and yellow as an allusion to gold. Both materials are related to divinity. A blue wedjat-eye (also called “eye of Horus”), a common symbol of protection and royal power in ancient Egypt, is attached to the bow. This symbol appears also as a decorative element in the white wig and as a make-up element on Katy Patra’s eye in this scene. The boat is further decorated with an often adopted Egyptianised winged solar disk with two snakes, originally symbolising protection for the pharaoh. The image of a reclining Cleopatra has a cinematic history, and it is unsur- prising that Katy Parry draws on it in this scene. Most striking is the comparison with the poster design for the movie Cleopatra (Mankiewicz 1963) with Eliza- beth Taylor in the title role. Moreover, on the cover of her hit “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’” (Reprise 1966), Nancy Sinatra strikes a similar pose with similarly coloured garment. The song has been counted in the American reception as a symbol of female emancipation; even Cleopatra as an antique pharaonic queen is connected with the empowerment of women in modern imagination. Another cinematic recourse is the scene with her flowing robe, already world famous for Marilyn Monroe in the movie The Seven Year Itch (Wilder 1955). It stands for sex appeal and beauty ̶ and perhaps a straight male gaze ̶ which Cleopatra is connected to as well because of her relationships to Cesar and Marc Antony. Once before, Perry slipped into the role of Marilyn Monroe in a version of the video for the song “Teenage Dream” (Capitol 2010). Juicy J raps in his grave chamber The rapper Juicy J is introduced in a subplot as an Egyptian mummy in his secret grave chamber. There, he recounts the dangers posed by the beautiful Queen Katy Patra, that many men had already fallen victim to. Situating the action in the tomb is indicative of the mysterious nature of the information the rapper discloses about Katy Patra as some sort of a well-known horror figure. Examples for this mysterious stereotype can be found early in mummy movies like The Mummy (1932 Freund) (Vosmann 2016: 34 ̶ 49) with Boris Karloff in the title role, who for example used Egyptian magic to influence his beloved Egyptian princess Anck-es-en-Amon reincarnated in Helen Grosvenor’s body. In this scene Juicy J is housed in a vault with Egyptian decorative elements and grave goods. He rests in an upright, anthropomorphic sarcophagus (02:17). This is done in reference to the inner, solid gold coffin of Tutankhamun (cf. Reeves 1997: 108 ̶ 109), and is opened by two cat-headed women. It has a bull- shaped head and pointed ears, usually connoted with the jackal god Anubis (cf.

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Reeves 1997: 133). The head is also covered with a blue and gold striped Nemes (pharaonic headdress) known from the famous golden mask of Tutankhamun (Egyptian Museum, Cairo). In the circular of the eyes a pyramid is incorporated, which is very similar to the emblem of the seal of the United States, known as the “eye of providence”. It is used by freemasons referring back to Egyptian traditions (Hornung 2003: 116 127)̶ and especially the already mentioned wedjat-eye. Interesting is the V-shaped finger gesture on the sarcophagus, common in pop culture as a sign for peace or victory. This might underline the monologue of the rapper about the negative characteristics of Katy Patra; he calls her a “beast” once. Perhaps Juicy J’s power over his important knowledge is illustrated by this, which he conveyed to the listeners. Moreover, the rapper himself (02:30) wears a diadem with an Egyptian uraeus (cf. Reeves 1997: 154), which includes the upright head of a cobra and symbolizes royal authority in ancient Egypt. Later it can be seen that his hips are covered by a pharaonic loincloth (cf. Reeves 1997: 103), the cat attendants are wearing as well. Under a black satin jacket and a shirt, his body is covered in a shiny golden mummy wrapping look-a-like garment, similar to the suit Michael Jackson wears in “Remember the Time” (Epic 1992). The rapper’s crossed arm position is typical to kingly Egyptian male mummies, like the aforementioned pharaoh. Finally, individual hieroglyphs are highlighted in this mummy scene in two places: they appear on the sunglasses of Juicy J (02:25) and they surround Katy Patra in a short slide-in (02:18). A deeper meaning cannot be detected; the only unequivocally legible hieroglyphs are some parts of the name of king Tutankha- mun on the far left (cf. Reeves 1997: 190). The admirers scene Here, an Egyptianised temple architecture, destroyed in many places, opens the perspective on a desert-like landscape. In the background, the ancient Egyptian book of the dead papyri and floral pillars are visible. Eye-catching details include the golden guardian deities (Isis or Nephtys) on the architraves (00:27) that originally derived from the canopic chest of Tutankhamun (cf. Reeves 1997: 119). The main colour of this scene is a bright pink ̶ without reference to ancient Egyptian culture, but to a girly “bonbon-world” ̶ and in contrast turquoise, a famous colour for Egyptians, as mentioned above. Katy Patra is located in the centre of the temple, which is designed as a throne room. The chair is in front of a silver-coloured huge sphinx and surrounded by courtiers, who are cat-headed female attendants and blue-skinned men. The kingly ensemble seems to be inspired by examples of temple scenes in movies like Cleopatra (Mankiewicz 1963) and Asterix and Obelix: Mission Cleopat- ra (Chabat 2002). In the video at hand, Katy Patra wears a colourful dress de-

[email protected] 230 Yvonne Vosmann signed by Nicolas Jebran (Keirans 2014) with a black, typical Egyptian hairstyle and a blinking headdress, complete with the head and wreath of a cobra. Due to its shape, it could also be interpreted as ears of Mickey Mouse. The heads of the blue men are dressed with a rimmed wire construction (00:24), which shows resemblance to headpieces of the last movie mentioned above. The first admirer (00:54) provides Katy Patra with a diamond. The bandana he wears connects him to the dirty south hip-hop. On top he pulls over a studded cappy and over that a golden headdress with the Egyptian uraeus. Numerous chains are worn together with a golden Egyptian style collar. A silver chain refers to the hip-hop record label MMG (Maibach Music Group). In addition, he wears a boxer belt stretched over the abdomen with the term “pharaoh”. In the end of this sequence, the Sphinx intervenes by throwing flashes against the admirer and turns him into grill, dental jewellery, and pink sand. This is similar to the metamorphosis of Michael Jackson as a magician in “Remember the Time” (Epic 1992). The second admirer (01:55) presents snack Cheetos and fast food, and wears a crown reminiscent of the Lower Egyptian red crown. His breast is adorned by a falcon pectoral, known from the grave treasure of Tutankhamun (cf. Reeves 1997: 151) and the shoulders are decorated with reproductions of claws of an animal predator. His body is further decorated with a chain that bears the name of the label “King Ice”, which sells Egyptianised jewellery in a collection named “Pharaoh Lyfe”. In the third section (02:16) Katy Patra is presented with an antique styled lowrider, designed like a carriage, by a man (performed by Juicy J in another role) wearing the Egyptian double crown, for Lower and Upper Egypt. The car begins to jump, caused by two skipping servants, then followed by a dance scene of Katy Patra and the cat-headed attendants. While the admirer again extols the gift in a dance scene, the Sphinx already transforms him into a pair of car dices with a scarab motif. Then they are inserted from one of the cat-headed servants at the mirror of the lowrider. It is composed of sort of Mesopotamian elements, like a head of a bull, and further Egyptian: onto the entire length of the car hieroglyphs are attached with parts of the cartouche (an oval shape to indicate a royal name) of Tutankhamun. The ancient Egyptians commonly wrote the name of a pharaoh in a cartouche of such an oval shape (cf. Reeves 1997: 190). The fourth admirer (02:45) carries in his both hands a goblet with gold and jewellery. When he lifts his veil a crocodile face comes forward and frightens Katy Patra and her handmaidens. Therefore, the suitor is instantly transformed into a gold-coloured leather handbag with a crocodile teeth pendant. The crocodile, as an embodiment of the deity Sobek, is ̶ mainly in the ancient Roman

[email protected] Queen Katy Patra represents ancient Egypt in pop music 231 tradition ̶ a symbol of power and protection, because of the animal’s aggressive nature. The fifth admirer (02:55) occupies only a short time of the video. It is a Pomeranian with short light brew fur. As well as the previous suitor, the dog displeases the cat-headed attendants and Katy Patra herself. Instead of being transformed, however, it is sent away by Katy Patra and runs forth on two legs. This dog, named Jiff, is famous in the US, because he holds the record for dogs running on two legs. The last and sixth admirer (02:58) presents Katy Patra a golden pyramid rhombus. Because of his clothes and his appearance with a chain and a pyramid pendant, he, from the Egyptological perspective, could be interpreted as the Egyptian architect Imhotep. He is considered to be the pyramid builder of pharaoh Djoser’s tomb of the Third Dynasty around 2700 BC. In the video he is wearing a black and gold scarf, reminiscent of the death mask of Tutankhamun. The admirer is accompanied by red-painted men with shiny, black headscarves, which again copy the pharaonic Nemes. His gift is the only one which satisfies Katy Patra, and thus the climax of the video follows. The Pyramid Scene The golden pyramid of the sixth bride advertiser is floating in the air, hovering above the desert and there opens its outer shell. This illustration of a flying pyramid has already occurred several times in cinematic receptions of Ancient Egypt and is best known from Stargate (1994 Emmerich). Here, the pyramid is used as a star cruiser by an ancient Egyptian alien civilization that enslaves several planets in other galaxies and presents itself as a group of Egyptian deities to be able to hold control about humanoids. Katy Patra enters the flattened top of the pyramid, where a so-called pyra- mideon, as a golden spire, was actually often installed in ancient Egyptian times. She wears a colourful feather skirt in this scene, along with wide chest jewellery, a top with blue wings under the arms and a yellow wig. The singer appears in a new role as an angry goddess and spreads her huge wings, a costume by a Wujek x ShowFX collaboration (Keirans 2014), with an offensive gesture (03:23). Her style is reminiscent of the Egyptian goddess Isis (cf. Reeves 1997: 110). Never- theless, the text only at one point refers to ancient Egyptian culture by incorporating the name of Aphrodite, who is actually the Greek goddess of love, wor- shipped in late Egypt, too. At the end of this scene, the pyramid opens into several segments, forms a cloud and swirls with lightning bolts around the top. The extoled “perfect storm” is visualized here and marks the turning point in the song: She found what she was looking for so long ̶a suitable admirer, who can satisfy her passionate demands.

[email protected] 232 Yvonne Vosmann

But finally, Katy Patra, back again in her role as a queen in the temple scene, turns the admirer into a Chihuahua with a human head. This may be an adopted representation of the figures in the movie Mars Attacks! (Burton 1966). The prophecy Katy Patra is singing about is thus fulfilled: She fell in love and has raised her lover as an underdog, though not without using dangerous magic. Historic-cultural context of the reception Fritze (2016: 16‒17) states that “Katy Perry appears as an Egyptian ruler” and that “the video incorporates a number of stereotypes, associating ancient Egypt with magic, luxury, decadence and sexuality. As such it is very much a product of popular culture and a subset of Egyptomania.” What he did not mention is, the music video “Dark Horse” obviously captures the typical motif of Egyptian queen Cleopatra VII Philopator (born 69 BC in Alexandria, died 12 August 30 BC). She ruled as the last queen, an Egyptian female pharaoh, of the Ptolemaic Empire on Egyptian soil and is known for her love affairs with the Roman em- perors Cesar and Marc Antony. This circumstance overshadows the queen’s overall reception in Western history (cf. Walker and Higgs 2001) as an oriental femme fatale, ending in her dramatic death. The well-known motif of Cleopatra’s suicide with the bite of a serpent emerges in a sideshow (01:30) of the video. A naked Katy Patra is squatting on the arm of a statue of the Egyptian sun god Re surrounded by other gods like Horus, Bastet, Anubis, Thoth and Sekhmet. The ensemble is entwined by a huge serpent and her hairstyle is adorned by another snake. Snakes are a commonly occurring Egyptian symbol: Katy Patra wears them as jewellery around her ankle (00:26); the goblet Katy Patra drinks out is decorated with one (02:10); they appear in the inner cold coffin of Juicy J (02:30); the Pomeranian Jiff wears one as a collar (02:50). Moreover, the gods are made of stone and Katy Patra appears with shiny, smooth skin, but all figures are drawn in the same colour of silver: this could be interpreted as the godlike appearance the pop singer desires. Stereotyped references to queen Cleopatra in visual performances were already made in the opera Giulio Cesare in Egitto from 1723/24 by Georg Frie- drich Händel (Künzig 2009) and later in many movies (Wenzel 2005), beginning with the silent film Cléopâtre (Méliès 1899) and even in the porn industry. Most productions do not stick to the facts but to the popular image of Cleopatra, which occurs in this discussed example of pop music as well. Cleopatra in Katy Perry’s adaption as Katy Patra is characterized as a self- ish witch capable to transform people and things into goods. The motif of witch- craft already appears in “Remember the Time” (Epic 1992). With this the producers refer to the Hellenistic thread (see Hornung 2003: 19 ̶ 25) of the reception of ancient Egypt, instead of a second one, which derives from the biblical per-

[email protected] Queen Katy Patra represents ancient Egypt in pop music 233 spective. The Greeks shaped a picture of the ancient Egyptians as a civilization of wisdom with incredible secrets and great knowledge. The connection to mythical power in the music video is influenced by the image the western reception draws on the religious beliefs the Egyptians had in magic (cf. Hornung 2003: 55 ̶ 63). Finally, the wise land of the Nile, as a topos in historic-cultural reception, is connected on the one hand with already famous Egyptianising elements and on the other hand with a distorted role model of a mythical Queen as a pop figure. The singer Katy Perry emancipates herself by slipping into the role of Cleopatra, a powerful woman known from world history. This example of pop music shows, ancient Egypt still is a vivid segment of popular culture and offers a new possibility of interdisciplinary research. References Bibliography Arnold, D. 1985. Moses und Aida: Das Alte Ägypten in der Oper. In Deutsches Archäologisches Institut/Abteilung Kairo Ed. Ägypten, Dauer und Wandel: Symposium anlässlich des 75-jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo am 10. und 11. Oktober 1982. Sonderschrift 18. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern: 173–180. Curl, J. 1982. The Egyptian Revival: An Introductory Study of a Recurring Theme in the History of Taste. London ̶ Boston: Taylor and Francis Ltd. Fritze, R. H. 2016. Egyptomania: A History of Fascination, Obsession and Fantasy. London: Reaktion Books. Grimm-Stadelmann, I. et al. 2009. O Isis und Osiris - welche Wonne! Alt-Ägypten im Musiktheater: Oswald Panagl zum 70. Geburtstag. München: Staatliches Museum Ägyptischer Kunst. Hornung, E. 2003. The Secret Lore of Egypt: Its Impact on the West. Ithaca ̶ London: Cornell University Press. Humbert, J.-M. 1989. L’Egyptomanie dans l’Art Occidental. Courbevoie: ACR Edition. Keirans, M. 2014. Katy Perry’s Dark Horse Music Video: Look by Look. http://www.mtv.com/news/2520326/katy-perry-dark-horse-look-by-look/. Accessed: 24 October 2016. Künzig, B. 2009. Die ägyptische Sache: Oper zwischen archäologischer Rekonstruktion und monumentaler Gebärde: Von Georg Friedrich Händels Giulio Cesare in egitto über Giuseppe Verdis Aida zu Philipp (sic!) Glass. In H. A. Schlögl and M. Winzen Eds. Die Pyramide von innen: Die Entdeckung des Alten Ägypten im 19. Jahrhundert. Baden-Baden: Snoeck-Verlag: 255–269. Maw, D. 2007. Making the Mummies Sing. In T. Glück and L. D. Morenz Eds. Exotisch, Weisheitlich und Uralt: Europäische Konstruktionen Altägyptens. Hamburg: LIT: 227 ̶ 248. Nicholas, R. 2000. The Complete Tutankhamun: The King: The Tomb: The Royal Treas- ure. London: Thames and Hudson.

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Rice, M. and MacDonald, S. 2003. Introduction ̶ Tea with a Mummy: The Consumer’s View of Egypt’s Immemorial Appeal. In M. Rice and S. MacDonald Eds. Consuming Ancient Egypt: Encounters with Ancient Egypt 3. London ̶ Portland: UCL: 1 ̶ 22. Wagner, M. 2000. Ägypten in der Musik. In W. Seipel Ed. Ägyptomanie: Europäische Ägyptenimagination von der Antike bis heute. Symposium Wien, Kunsthistorisches Museum, 30. und 31. Oktober 1994. Schriften des Kunsthistorischen Museums 3. Wien ̶ Mailand: Gingko Press: 337 ̶ 344. Walker, S. and Higgs, P, Eds. 2001. Cleopatra of Egypt: From History to Myth. London: British Museum Press. Wenzel, D. 2005. Kleopatra im Film: Eine Königin Ägyptens als Sinnbild für orientalische Kultur. Remscheid: Gardez. Vosmann, Y. 2016. Ägyptenrezeption im Mumienfilm: The Mummy 1932 und Remakes. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Discography Backstreet Boys. 1997. “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)”, Backstreet’s Back, Jive Rec- ords ̶ Trans Continental Records, 11 August, USA. DJ Bobo. 1996. “Pray”, World in Motion, Yes Music (EMI) ̶ Metrovynil (EAMS Less- er), 2 September, Switzerland ̶ Austria ̶ Germany. Katy Perry. 2010. “Teenage Dream”, Teenage Dream, Capitol Records, 23 July, USA ̶ Kanada. Katy Perry. 2013. “Dark Horse”, Prism, Capital Records, 13 December, USA. Michael Jackson. 1992. “Remember the Time”, Dangerous, Epic Records, 14 January, USA. The Bangles. 1986. “Walk Like an Egyptian”, Different Light, Columbia Bangle-a-lang Music, 1 September, worldwide. Nancy Sinatra. 1966. “These Boots Are Made for Walkin”, Boots, Reprise Records, 22 February, USA. Videography Asterix and Obelix: Mission Cleopatra. 2002. Dir. Alain Chabat, Miramax Films ̶ Pathé. Cleopatra. 1963. Dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 20th Century Fox. Cléopâtre. 1899. Dir. Georges Méliès. Mars Attacks!. 1996. Dir. Tim Burton, Warner Bros. Pictures. Stargate. 1994. Dir. Roland Emmerich, Metro ̶ Goldwyn ̶ Mayer. The Mummy. 1932. Dir. Karl Freund, Universal Studios. The Seven Year Itch. 1955. Dir. Billy Wilder, 20th Century Fox.

[email protected] Analysing the voice in popular music with categories of “voice”

Fernand Hörner University of Applied Sciences Düsseldorf, Faculty of Social Sciences and Cultural Stud- ies, Düsseldorf, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany [email protected] This article proposes to sketch a methodological basis for an intermedial analysis of voice in its sonic, performative and embodied, semantic and audiovisual dimensions. The voice is at once an individual acoustic “identity card” of the singer and a means of linguistic expression, as well as being in a more or less metaphorical way used to describe strategies of representation in the political and semiotic sense of the word. Thus, analysing the voice as understood here is not only about singing, but as well developing the category “voice” for analysis itself. In cultural semiotics, the notion of polyphony (Mikhail Bakhtin) refers to a complex intertextual and intermedial network, stretching the ambiguity of different codes. The task will be to link these metaphorical uses of voice with the analysis of the actual sounding and expressing voice in popular music. The music video “Kiss” by Prince and the Revolution serves as an example of how gender is performed in an ambiguous manner by the use of the “voice”, the latter conceived in both an abstract and a concrete meaning. Mikhail Bakhtin’s metaphor of the “voice of the other” for the intertextual references of language in general and polyphonic literature in particular is being transferred (back) to the voice in audiovisual media.1

Keywords: Bakhtin, polyphony, music video, voice, Prince

The concept of polyphony The concept of polyphony as used here originates from Mikhail Bakhtin. Bakh- tin’s metaphors of the “voice of the other”, “two-voiced word” and “polyphony”, which describe the intertextual reference-interlace of language in general and literature in particular, are (re)transferred here to the phenomenon of the music video. Such an “other voice” within a word can manifest quite specifically by

[email protected] 236 Fernand Hrner quoting or alluding to other texts, or more generally by referring to literary genres (cf. Bakhtin 1985: 117, 151) or to a certain level of language (Bakhtin 1985: 205 ̶ 207). Bakhtin also stresses, however, that apart from this general impregna- tion by “other” voices, there is also a type of polyphony which is intentionally set up as an artistic technique. With regard to literature, he is referring to novels which are not conclusive, harmonious or homophonous (stimmig), meaning that their content cannot be reduced to a single statement or intention of the author and which therefore cannot be integrated into the “final, monolithic-monological entity of the novel” (Bakhtin 1985: 81). In the polyphonic novel, every phenomenon is also to simultaneously represent its opposite in an ambivalent tension, without the chance of ever being united into one or forming a synthesis in the Hegelian sense (Bakhtin 1985: 32, cf. Kristeva 1969: 172). An analysis of polyphony – be it in the sense of Bakhtin with regard to literature or, as is done here, with regard to music videos – is therefore based on the assumption of a state of ambivalence that is not solved by interpretation, but that is considered an artistic technique and left unchallenged. Musicology: Current state of research While the Bakhtinian concept has long since become a classic in the area of literature and cultural studies (cf. for example Martínez 2010), the retransfer of Bakhtin’s metaphor of polyphony to music has not largely occurred until now. Matthias Tischer has done pioneering work on intertextuality in the Bakhtinian sense and music (Tischer 2009: 55 ̶ 71). He advocates discarding previous musical concepts, such as originality and integrality – where, according to Adorno, all parts of a work of art are referred to one all-integrating principle – and instead focusing on the intertextual and/or intermedial references as per Bakhtin (Tischer 2009: 56). Tischer calls this context the “non-sonic aspects”:

Isolating the sonic strands of the musical discourse from the non-sonic strands will, in the long run, help to promote the isolation of musicology itself, as well as to challenge cultural-historical approaches which – disappointed by musicology’s inade- quate ability to theorize – entirely discard the investigation of musical works of art [...] (Tischer 2009: 70). The concept of “musical borrowing” (Giger 1994) provides the first approach, and Serge Lacasse also transfers the categories of intertextuality such as quotation and allusion from Gérard Genette to popular music. He differentiates between allosonic quotations, which quote melodies, and autosonic quotations, which quote sounds (Lacasse 2000: 38 ̶ 39) Using the term hypertextuality he mainly summarises the phenomenon of covers and remixes (Lacasse 2000: 40 ̶ 52). Lacasse thus perceives music as text and attributes the concept of intertextu-

[email protected] Analysing the voice in popular music with categories of “voice” 237 ality to Julia Kristeva (Lacasse 2000: 36). Upon closer examination, however, it becomes clear that Kristeva had derived the concept of intertextuality from Bakhtin’s concept of polyphony (Kristeva 1969). In this respect, this article will analyse the voices which can be both heard and seen in music videos using the Bakhtinian concept of polyphony. Here, for the exemplary analysis of the gender performance in Prince’s “Kiss”, Bakhtin’s concept of polyphony is first applied on the text level (to which Bakhtin allocated it initially) and then subsequently transferred to the other levels of the music video – singing, music, visual performance and cinematic staging. This playing with gender performance arises through a complex co-ordination of intertextual and intermedial references. For structuring reasons, these references are, however, presented successively by means of the lyrics, musical and film elements. As a final step, general reflections are made regarding music videos as a polyphonic interaction of all of these elements. Polyphony in text The song “Kiss” is from the album Parade by Prince and The Revolution and became a great commercial success as a single. It was additionally used for the soundtrack for the film Under the Cherry Moon produced by Prince (1986) and was also one of the first music videos by an African-American artist (cf. Haw- kins and Niblock 2011: 18). When listening to “Kiss” or reading its lyrics, one is at first inclined to categorise the statements as a situation typical for pop music in which a masculine character attempts to verbally seduce a woman using prom- ises and self-praise. The chorus here clearly expresses that the character would like a kiss; a “you” is referred to as “my girl”2 and/or “woman”. It is a reference to the film Under the Cherry Moon which Prince directed; it not only appeared in the same year as “Kiss”. In it, Prince himself plays the callboy Christopher Tracy, who also earns his living by tricking rich women out of their property – until he falls deeply in love with the rich heiress Mary Sharon (played by Kristin Scott Thomas). One could say that Prince’s character Christopher at first assumes the exact opposite (“you have to be rich to be my girl”) and one could view that line of the song as an expression of his transformation. In the corresponding scene, both are sitting in a convertible, Christopher/Prince says: “I love you”, Mary/Kristin Scott Thomas answers “define love”, whereupon Christo- pher/Prince climbs to her onto the seat and kisses her silently – in fact not altogether silently, as it is just at this moment we hear “Kiss”, introduced with the guitar riff and a moan by Prince. At the line “you don’t have to be rich”, Chris- topher/Prince in the film his voice again and says “let me take you with me... forever”, the camera glides to the next position, over the car to a view overlook- ing the harbour and, at the same time, “Kiss” is faded out. Thus a constant oscil-

[email protected] 238 Fernand Hrner lation is produced in the film between Prince the singer and the character he plays. Vice versa, it is also worth noting that, through this same line of the song, the context and action of the film resonate as an “other” voice when viewing the music video. However, the romantic happy ending in the film is contradictory to the later song text in which only a game prolongation (“extra time”) is spoken of. The sports term puts the hoped-for kiss into a sexual context ̶ also suggesting the character’s great stamina in this mating game. This in combination with other commonplaces such as “we could have a good time”, “I just need your body, baby”, “maybe we could do the twirl” make it clear that in the song, the character intends more of a sexual adventure than a relationship. This also confirms the classic role distribution of the man as the active seducer and the woman as an object of desire (and as someone who can still learn something from the man). To quote the lyrics: “You don’t need experience to turn me out. You just leave it all up to me, I’m gonna show you what it’s all about”. Erica Funk-Hennings comments: the men are represented as acting subjects, while women are only grant an object status (Funk-Hennings 2011: 57 ̶ 58). However, it would not be enough to say that this quotation from the song fully sets the gender roles described here. As will be shown in connection with the visual implementation of the song, the assignment of the character as masculine and the allocation of the character to the performance persona Prince is not clear and is questioned over and over again. At the same time, gender roles are described and/or ironised in a “polyphonic” manner throughout the course of the lyrics. So different voices speak in the lyrics, resulting in different positions being able to be assigned to the statements in the text. In such an ambivalent manner, the statement that the object of the seduction should not be cool (“You don’t have to be cool to rule my world”), nor a dirty talker (“You got to not talk dirty, baby, if you wanna impress me”), is a rejection of classic masculine seduction behaviour (or not rather, of females as sexual objects?) in popular music. One could see Prince’s call for abstaining from using dirty talk – depending on whether one interprets this as being forbidden or being a concession – on the one hand as normative confirmation of classic gender relations in music or, on the other hand, as subversive reversal of typical gender performances. That is, as long as in the latter case – meaning in the fiction of the lyrics – one assumes that the feminine “you” exhibits exactly these behaviour patterns, this being absolutely legitimate but not actually not necessary. Basically the same is true for “you don’t have to be beautiful to turn me on”, which one could either regard as an eschewal of the superficial primacy of appearance – or as an expression of the character’s limitless lust and potency, which will stop at nothing.

[email protected] Analysing the voice in popular music with categories of “voice” 239

Polyphony in music During the retransmission of the Bakhtinian concept of polyphony to music, one of course comes across an already inhabited word, as Bakhtin would say. In musicology, the term voice describes a coherent sequence of sounds. Accordingly, polyphony is the harmonic and melodic co-ordination of several voices which can be analysed with regard to voice leading, harmony. This relates to singing voices just as much as it does to instrumental voices. The polyphony of the instrumental voices in “Kiss” is extremely reduced. The song is carried by electronic percussion and a funk guitar, which plays the typical dominant seventh chords (A7 and D7 in the verses), sometimes with an added ninth and fourth (E9sus4 in the chorus) in a semiquaver pattern. It is especially because of this extremely minimalist accompaniment that the polyphony of the singing voice(s) really stands out. A very concrete “other” voice comes from the band Mazarati, founded in 1986 – the year “Kiss” was published – by Prince’s former bass player Brown Mark. The band asked Prince for a song for their debut album, so Prince recorded an acoustic version of “Kiss” for them. Mazarati turned it into a funk version which Prince in turn liked so much that he recorded the song himself and published it on his album Parade (Crandall 2004). Mazarati’s original background singing can be heard on “Kiss” and thus is an example of (semi-)“other” voices in the musical sense, a combination of “one’s own” lead voice and “other” background singing. Looked at more theoretically, one can also see here a basic convention in our reception of polyphony. The chorus that begins with “You don’t have to be rich to be my girl” is in fact sung by several voices; however, in spite of the musical polyphony on a contents-related textual level, it is seen as an expression of one voice. In other words: Musically, we do hear several voices, but we allocate these with regard to the contents to only one character (equal to that of Prince?). This polyphony on the musical level – here in the form of singing– is furthermore supported by Prince’s polyphonic way of singing (in the Bakhtin- ian sense): in “Kiss”, we not only hear Prince singing, we also hear Prince’s voice itself (in the Bakhtinian sense) interlaced with “other” voices. This can particularly be seen with respect to the question of gender performance. Here too, the first impression of a clear assignment is quickly blanketed by more complex perceptions. With Prince’s voice, one “of the most interesting and polymorphic voices of the last thirty years of pop history” (Bielefeldt 2007: 202), one first notices the extremely high pitch – usually falsetto. To conclude that this is a feminine delivery – or at least an unmanly one, to say nothing of the word castrated – may at first seem likely, but would actually be falling short. Even if this is often the case with classical music, as for instance Paul Zumthor

[email protected] 240 Fernand Hrner might bring to mind regarding the European melodrama (1990: 11), in the 1980s (when “Kiss” originated), high voices were considered being more an expression of special musical and sexual potency. Curtis Mayfield was certainly a stylistic icon as far as funk was concerned. For instance Mayfield’s song “Superfly” is the soundtrack of the Blaxploitation film of the same name in which the hero Priest, a violent drug dealer with an extremely high singing voice (that sometimes changes into the falsetto), is described as follows: “The man of the hour has an air of great power. The dudes have envied him for so long”. It was also a similar situation for heavy metal of the time, for instance Judas Priest’s “Blood Red Skies”, in which the character issues the challenge (“You won't break me, / You won’t take me, / I’ll fight you / Under blood red skies”), spiralling into increasingly higher tones. In this respect, Walser’s comment on “Kiss”, “Prince occupies a feminine-sounding high vocal-range, declaiming a text full of sexual come-ons” (Walser 1994: 86), can be augmented to the effect that these sexual invitations expressed in the lyrics are certainly underlined through the high voice as an expression of masculine power and potency – and not (or not only) of ef- feminacy. Similarly to Bakhtin’s description of “other” voices in the literature, singing voices also show the prior existence of certain cultural and social voice patterns and codes which interlace and overlap with the respectively individual voices (Schrödl 2009: 148). This overlap, the perception of “other” voices, is, however, strongly culture-bound (Bose 2010) or, to be more precise: strongly dependent on the conventions of individual genres of music. Prince relates to the aforementioned singing traditions so that one could say he speaks and/or sings with an “other voice” in both a textual respect as well as in a vocal respect. Here he is simultaneously expressing a certain distance from these vocal traditions. This distance becomes particularly clear when he con- sciously tips his high tone over into a shriek, his actual clean falsetto technique turns into a rather uncontrolled scream for love (clearly to be heard for instance at the end of the chorus “I just want your of extra time and your kiss”). Theodor W. Adorno maintains that this could also be described as a phenomenon in which Prince does not just sing, he “sings like a singer” (Adorno 2006: 83). In line with Susan Sontag’s principle of camp, seeing everything in quotation marks and thus considering things figuratively and taking han ironic- distanced attitude to everything (Sontag 1982: 109), Prince’s voice seems ironically distanced from his own singing. Stan Hawkins described this phenomenon as a characteristic of the pop dandy and as “sonic mannerism” (Hawkins 2009: 17).3 If it is correct that the voice is “often understood as a signature of the individual and thus as an authentic expression of said individual’s unmistakable

[email protected] Analysing the voice in popular music with categories of “voice” 241 uniqueness” (Straumann 2007: 245), that the voice is therefore a symbol of in- wardness, authority and authenticity (Railton 2011: 68; Shaviro 2002: 26), then an artificial, distanced handling of it can be seen with Prince (as with the pop dandies examined by Hawkins). Prince’s voice clearly exhibits distinctly different singing styles, which intertwine into an artistic polyphony in the Bakhtinian sense of the word. Polyphony on the visual level The music video begins blurred – only forms can be seen, so that at first sight, one is inclined to believe that the figure on the bar stool with cowboy boots, guitar and short hair is a man. It is striking here that guitarist Wendy Melvoin exhibits exactly that kind of coolness which the “you” in the song text is not supposed to assume (“You don’t have to be cool to rule my world”), she behaves any- where from indifferently and conceitedly to even ironically and contemptuously towards Prince and only casually shrugs her shoulders. She breaks Prince’s vocal performance and his plea not to make any dirty talk with an ironic facial expression (01:17) which, according to director Rebecca, supposedly reflected the actual relationship between the two.4 Only in one scene (00:45) does one see her in an intimate tête-à-tête with Prince – something which is to be understood as a self-ironic allusion. This is because guitarist Wendy Melvoin, who was in a lesbian relationship with the band’s keyboardist Lisa Coleman, has an identical twin sister Susannah Melvoin, who was the band’s background singer and was in a long-term relationship with Prince (Walters 2009). In this respect, the tête-à-tête scene with Prince could also be seen as a moment in which Wendy Melvoin slips into the role of her twin sister. Shortly afterwards (when an interspersed “aha” is slipped in by Mazarati), a veiled singer is shown – it is not clear whether this is now still Prince or if it is the dancer, German model Monique Manning. What is resorted to here is the manner of production of lip-synching (the subsequent visual synchronisation of lip movements to the music, typical for music videos) as well as the attitude of perception resulting from this (which, using “substitution”, couples the music heard to the person seen moving their lips) (Klug 2011: 204). This convention is also once again broken in punctual fashion through this process’s meta- referential mimicking comments. This becomes particularly clear when a guttur- al “yeah” sung by Prince rings out from a deeper vocal register – dancer Monique Manning is seen lip synching while executing a “masculine” facial expression, which in turn results in Prince giving Manning an ironic contemptu- ous look. This is repeated in a second spot but without the side glance from Prince (03:20). This “disembodied voice”, which cuts the bond between voice

[email protected] 242 Fernand Hrner and body (Bielefeldt 2007: 204) is not only interpreted as a medial ambiguity, according to Christian Bielefeldt – it can also be seen as playing with gender performance. If one transfers Elizabeth Wood’s expression of “sonic cross- dressing” (Wood 1994: 32) – in which female voices alternate between a deep chest voice in the low range and high falsetto – from opera to popular music, as for instance Rodger Gillian (1999: 20) also does, a vocal cross-dressing can be observed. In this case Prince and Manning face each other chiastically. In addition, the corresponding cross-dressing is broken by each other’s ironic facial expressions (from Prince towards Manning and vice versa, from Melvoin towards Prince). Prince is actually carrying out this sonic cross-dressing through his falsetto, while Manning only simulates it through lip synching. Nowhere in the entire lyrics does it become clear whether the character is in fact masculine. When watching music videos, there is a basic convention of reception which is based on equating the singer with the character – provided that an “I” is being used in the lyrics – however, it is just this convention which is broken here. In this respect it is also this unclear connection between real person, character I and the performer of the music video which is polyphonic in the Bakhtinian sense. This is because Bakhtin discovers an analogous principle in the novels of Dostoyevsky, where the different persons have their own voices, independent of the narrator. Bakhtin ascertains “that a distance exists in his work between the hero and the author”, that Dostoyevsky achieves this in many novels through a narrator who is as far reduced as possible, so that the voices speak for themselves as it were, can comment on themselves, without being evaluated by the narrator (Bakhtin 1985: 57). Even if here one cannot fully expand upon the correspondence between author, narrator and the figures in the novel and/or performance persona, real person and character in pop music, one can nevertheless recognize with Prince a basic autonomy of the individual voices which distinguishes itself from other music videos. According to Lisa Lewis, the voice in the music video is to be seen as a “voice over” of an omniscient narrator which structures and guides visual events. Because we see the singer’s lips moving, we perceive the singer to be the actual author and creator of the music video (Lewis 1993: 131; Railton 2011: 68) – and not for instance the video’s director, as is the case with films. In Prince’s case, however, it is again exactly this – through the allocation of the visible person as the creator of the singing being heard – which is broken and at the same time confirmed in a meta-reflexive game. The gender performance staged by the lip synching is accompanied by a fundamentally ambivalent gender performance through cross-dressing (cf. Gar- ber 1992; Hörner 2012b).

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Polyphony as a genre marker After having examined polyphony on the text, music and image levels, it is now time to the recombine these three elements. One could also cultivate the term of polyphony by again focusing on the genre of music videos in a “holistic” manner regarding its audiovisual interplay, using both eyes and ears. According to Bakh- tin, genre diversity is a central characteristic of the polyphonic novel – with respect to this he proves for instance elements of the Socratic dialogue, the Menip- pee and the carnival. He suggests that polyphony arises through the mixing of different styles of talking and narration (Bakhtin 1985). Thus in general, the music video could surely be referred to as a blended form of a concert recording, a short film and video art (for example, cf. Poschhardt 2003). “Kiss” in particular stands out through different staging techniques that are typical to specific music genres: rock ballads with music videos featuring dance, tango and even dance movies. It is especially the setting of a rather big dark room, illuminated through large windows, which is remotely reminiscent of the final scene of Flashdance. The previously mentioned use of “Kiss” as the soundtrack for Under the Cherry Moon and the interference with regard to this could also be mentioned here. In the words of Railton and Watson, “Kiss” would thus be designated as a hybrid music video because it unites different music video genres, narrative and performance elements (Railton 2011: 46). Again, in this case one must not forget that hybridity is a concept which Bakhtin first and foremost shaped as a means of aesthetic means of design of polyphonic texts:

What we are calling a hybrid construction is an utterance that belongs, by its gram- matical (syntactic) and compositional markers, to a single speaker, but that actually contains mixed within it two utterances, two speech manners, two styles, two “languages”, two semantical and axiological belief systems […] (Bakhtin: 1981: 304). Accordingly, the hybridity of the music video shows itself in a very literal sense in the visual allocation of different speakers – suggested by using lip-syncing – but mainly in the combination of different “styles” with regard to fashion and music; also, from a visual point of view, as a combination of different “image” languages and different audiovisual music formats. Conclusion The gender performance is therefore ambivalent in a polyphonic manner: in the song lyrics, in the vocal performance and in its visual performance through vocal and vestmental cross-dressing. In this case the ambivalence largely arises through extramusical quotations and allusions to other song texts, music styles and their visual performances. At the same time, however, I would not like to go

[email protected] 244 Fernand Hrner so far as to say that Prince subversively infiltrates masculine and feminine “gender behaviour” (Hawkins 2011: 11); nor that he, being a queer poststructuralist, invites men to imagine new kinds of erotic attraction (Walser 1994: 85), engages in gender blending, de- or re-construction (Bechdolf 1999) or tries to discredit gender reality through performance, mimicry and subversive repetition of the labelling procedure. Where Judith Butler claims “a dissonant and denaturalized performance that reveals the performative status of the natural itself” (Butler 1990: 146) and renders gender “thoroughly and radically incredible” (Butler 1990: 141), one could even go so far as to say that the term polyphony is not only used to argue on the level of harmoniousness (Stimmigkeit) and inner coherence as well as their resolutions and subversions but that an irresolvable polyphony is assumed to be a fundamental category. Such investigation in Bakhtin’s category of polyphony cannot and does not want to determine whether it was Prince’s intention to ironize, subvert or to confirm gender affiliation. Extending this line of thought, Bakhtin’s concept of polyphony rather implies not only the description of polyphonic gender performances – which could be attributed subversive potential – but also that the way Prince handles the gender performances is polyphonic as well. In other words: according to Bakhtin’s polyphonic way of thinking – which includes all points of view – the subversion of gender roles is only one possible perspective in addition to the confirmation of these roles, possibly through self-performance as a masculine, potent seducer of passive women etc. Prince’s toying with the question of who is talking and singing can therefore not be fixed to a subversive handling – it is polyphonic in the Bakhtinian sense since it is pervaded by a basic ambivalence which cannot be resolved or interpreted. This analysis therefore does not mean to reconstruct an unambiguous intention of the music video “Kiss” but rather to describe and leave the polyphonic gender performances in all of their contrariness. This also means that it will remain open as to whether these gender performances are actually meant ironically and should be perceived as a polyphonic interplay which is then accompanied by other polyphonies on the text, music and image levels. This develops an approach as well – just like Bakhtin’s metaphor of the “other voice” can be (re)transferred from literary texts to an actually perceivable voice in order to examine the phenomenon of voice in its musical, semantic and visualised aspects as an aesthetic phenomenon and as a theoretical metaphor.

1 The article uses modified parts of a German analysis of “Kiss” (cf. Hörner 2012a). 2 All lyric transcriptions are by the author.

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3 For a problematisation of Hawkins’ concept of camp and dandy in this light cf. Hörner 2012b. For camp and music in general cf. Jarman-Ivens 2011. 4 Cf. director’s comments: “I think for him it was a turning point, a more relaxed expression of himself. People who know him find out that he has an incredible sense of humor. So putting it in the video gave the public a more intimate view of his personality. […] As we were doing the takes, I encouraged that, because that was very much a part of what their relationship was about […]” (Farber 1993). References Bibliography Adorno, T. 2006. Towards a Theory of Musical Reproduction: Notes, a Draft and Two Schemata. Cambridge: Polity Press. Bakhtin, M. ̶ 1981 The Dialogic Imagination. Austin: University of Texas Press. 1984. Problems of Dostoevsky’s Poetics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Bechdolf, U. 1999. Puzzling Gender: Re- und De-Konstruktionen von Geschlechterverhältnissen im und beim Musikfernsehen. Weinheim: Deutscher Studienverlag. Bielefeldt, C. 2007. Voices of Prince: Zur Popstimme. In C. Bielefeldt, U. Dahmen and R. Großmann Eds. Popmusicology: Perspektiven der Popmusikwissenschaft. Bielefeldt: Transcript: 201 ̶ 129. Bose, I. 2010. Stimmlich-artikulatorischer Ausdruck und Sprache. In A. Deppermann and A. Linke Eds. Sprache intermedial: Stimme und Schrift, Bild und Ton. Berlin et al: de Gruyter: 29 ̶ 68. Butler, J. 1990. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge. Elflein, D. 2011. Breaking the Law (Judas Priest). In M. Fischer and F. Hörner Eds. Songlexikon. www.songlexikon.de/songs/breakingthelaw. Accessed: 15 December 2017. Farber, J. and Kenny, G. 1993: The 100 Top Music Videos. Rolling Stone 667: 65 ̶ 87. Funk-Hennings, E. 2011. Musikvideos im Alltag: Geschlechtsspezifische Darstellungsweisen. In D. Helms and T. Phleps Eds. Thema Nr. 1: Sex und populäre Musik. Bielefeldt: Transcript: 55 ̶ 67. Garber, M. 1992. Vested Interests: Cross Dressing and Cultural Anxiety. New York: Routledge. Giger, A. 1994. A Bibliography on Musical Borrowing. Notes 50 (3): 871 ̶ 874. Hawkins, S. 2009. The British Pop Dandy: Masculinity, Popular Music and Culture. Ash- gate: Farnham. Hawkins, S. and Niblock, S. 2011. Prince: The Making of a Pop Music Phenomenon. Farnham ̶ Surrey ̶ Burlington, VT: Ashgate. Hörner, F. ̶ 2012a. Was liegt daran wer spricht: Genderinszenierung durch eigene und fremde Stimme bei Prince. Freiburger Zeitschrift für Geschlechterstudien 18 (1): 53 ̶ 71.

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2012b: Stan Hawkins: The British Pop Dandy. In M. Fischer and F. Hörner Eds. Deutsch- französische Musiktransfers. Münster: Waxmann: 486 ̶ 491. Jarman-Ivens, F. 2011. Notes on Musical Camp. In D. B. Scott Ed. The Ashgate Research Companion to Popular Musicology. Farnham ̶ Surrey ̶ Burlington, VT: Ashgate: 190 ̶ 204. Klug, D. 2011. (Un-)Stimmigkeiten: Zur Darstellungspraxis des lip synching in der Audio-Vision des Musikclips. In C. Jost, D. Klug, A. Schmidt and K. Neumann- Braun Eds. Populäre Musik, mediale Musik? Transdisziplinäre Beiträge zu den Medien der populären Musik. Berlin: Nomos: 201 ̶ 230. Kristeva, J. 1969. Le mot, le dialogue et le roman. In Sémiotique. Recherches pour une Sémanalyse. Paris: Seuil: 82 ̶ 112. Lacasse, S. 2000. Intertextuality and Hypertexuality in Recorderd Popular Music. In M. Talbot Ed. Musical Work: Reality or Invention? Liverpool: Liverpool UP: 35 ̶ 38. Lewis, L. A. 1993. Being Discovered: The Emergence of Female Address on MTV. In S. Frith, A. Goodwin, L. Grossberg Eds. Sound and Vision: The Music Video Reader. London: Routledge: 129 ̶ 152. Martínez, M. and Scheffel, M. 2010. Klassiker der modernen Literaturtheorie: Von Sigmund Freud bis Judith Butler. Beck: Munich. Railton, D. and Watson, P. 2011. Music Video and the Politics of Representation. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Schrödl, J. 2009. Erfahrungsräume: Zur Einleitung in das Kapitel. In D. Kolesch, V. Pinto and J. Schrödl Eds. Stimm-Welten: Philosophische, medientheoretische und ästhetische Perspektiven. Bielefeld: Transcript: 146 ̶ 156. Shaviro, S. 2002. The Erotic Life of Machines. Parallax 8 (4): 22 ̶ 31. Sontag, S. 1982. Notes on Camp. In E. Hardwick. Ed. A Susan Sontag Reader. New York: Farrar: 105 ̶ 119. Straumann, B. 2007. Präsenz und Resonanz: Stimme in Germaine de Staëls Corinne ou lʼItalie. In C. Kiening Ed. Mediale Gegenwärtigkeit. Zürich: Chronos: 243 ̶ 263. Tischer, M. 2009. Zitat – “Musik über Musik” – Intertextualität: Wege zu Bakhtin: Vers une musique intégrale. Musik und Ästhetik 13: 55 ̶ 71. Walser, R. 1994. Prince as Queer Poststructuralist. Popular Music and Society 2 (18): 79 ̶ 89. Walters, B. 2009. The Revolution Will Be Harmonized. Out. 16 April. http://www.out.com/entertainment/2009/04/16/revolution-will-be-harmonized. Ac- cessed: 3 November 2017. Wood, E. 1994. Sapphonics. In P. Brett, E. Wood and G. C. Thomas Eds. Queering the Pitch: The New Gay and Lesbian Musicology. New York: Routledge: 27 ̶ 66. Zumthor, P. 1990: Einführung in die mündliche Dichtung. Oldenburg: Oldenbourg Akad- emieverlag. Discography Curtis Mayfield. 1972. “Superfly”, Curtom, United States of America, CR 1978. Judas Priest. 1988. “Blood Red Skies”, Ram It Down,. CBS, United Kingdom, 4611081. Prince. 1988. “Just My Imagination”, Small Club, X Records, United States of America, PR-SC 18-88.

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Prince and the Revolution. 1986. “Kiss”, Parade, Paisley Park, United States of America, 925395-1. Videography Under The Cherry Moon. 1986. Dir. Prince Roger Nelson, Warner Brothers Inc.

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Popular music festivals

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Researching popular music through transmedia festivals

Bianca Ludewig University of Innsbruck, Institute European Ethnology, Innsbruck; University of Vienna, Institute European Ethnology, Vienna, Austria [email protected] For the past four years I have been researching urban transmedia festivals ethno- graphically, from the perspective of a popular music studies scholar for my PhD thesis Transmedia Festivals – Cultural Practices at the Intersection of Art, Mu- sic and Precarity. The term “transmedia” derives from the field itself and refers to transmediality or transdisciplinarity. Those festivals originated at the fringes of the new media scene, where media art was overlapping with electronic music. Also the club culture of the 1990s is a crucial reference point for some festivals. Today’s transmedia festivals are international events dedicated to electronic music, related arts and a diverse range of artistic practices in the context of sound, art, and technology. Festivals provide immersive, multi-sensory spaces, they have ramified networks and aim at displaying a certain zeitgeist. With their curation and booking strategies they take part in the construction of music histories and narratives or reinforce hypes in art and music. Those festivals function as switch points that can enable (or withhold) possibilities. My aim is to interro- gate the transmedia festival as a driving force of today's cultural production. My intention here is to outline my research approach and some conceptions about the music at stake.

Keywords: urban music festivals, avant-garde festivals, music as cultural practice, multi- sited ethnography, research design, experimental music

Transmedia festivals I would like to briefly outline the characteristics of the festivals I researched and how they compare to other music festivals. I am researching avant-garde festivals; this is the description used by journalists who write about them or experts who advise or co-curate them. For the purpose of clarity, I use the term trans-

[email protected] 252 Bianca Ludewig media festivals, because compared to other avant-garde festivals of the past, technology plays a crucial role here. They emerged in the time of digitization and are themselves a part and an outcome of this process. So transmedia festivals are international avant-garde events dedicated to electronic music, related arts, and a diverse range of artistic practices. Transmedia festivals are usually urban events, taking place in big cities, or cities that are the capitals of their region. They follow the principles of the big art exhibits rather than those of the common open air music festival (cf. Teissl 2013) and many of the curators I talked to have a background in the arts. The festivals I have researched are all interested in the same kind of music, although some festivals focus more on specific genres, but one can always find reccurring names from umbrella-categories like experimental, electronic or avant-garde music. What is changing from festival to festival is the art form with which the music is combined. This can be technology, performance, dance, fine arts or discourse. This can be any kind of fine arts but mostly common is sound art, new media art, audiovisual art, film/video, sculpture/installation. I will use in this text the terms avant-garde festival and transmedia festival simultaneously as both terms underline different aspects of the festivals in question. Festivals I researched empirically include Rokolective (Bukarest), Heart of Noise (Innsbruck), Elevate (Graz), Ars Electronica (Linz), Hyperreality/Wiener Festwochen (Vienna), CTM (Berlin), Atonal (Berlin). The most indepth research was carried out at the CTM festival. I will therefore be referring in the following to CTM as an example. The focus is on those subjects who organize the festivals as well as those who visit them. At CTM I spoke to most of the core team and gave special attention to interns and volunteers; like most of the artists, they also belong to the festival audiences. Usually the majority of those who work for the festival, be it the team or the volunteers, are former festival visitors who wanted to be more involved. Many I spoke to were working as organizers, artists, promoters or journalists, were involved with the festival circuit at large and called accredited professionals. Often listed separately, in the festival profiles and at CTM 2015 there were one thousand of these professionals listed. At one festival they may be working or performing and at another festival you may meet them as visitors. I call them activists, because they contribute often in many different ways to these scenes and their networks. They are long-term festival attendees, who usually organize events or labels themselves; they are artists, musicians, DJs, they write about music and research music or the arts. Some of them do all of that or have done work in several of those fields. Also due to the changes in the music industry, where nowadays money is made mostly from live events, the network becomes crucial for artists and organizers. Although for different reasons, not all

[email protected] Researching popular music through transmedia festivals 253 of them go to a festival as accredited professionals: for example they might get guestlist spots when they know the organizers or artists, because accredited professionals often have to pay a reduced ticket price, and working conditions tend to be precarious. Others volunteer for the festival pass. I assume that the number of professionals is much higher than estimated, and I would even say that at least half of the festival pass holders are related professionally to the field. Methods and research design Festivals only exist temporarily and are ephemeral in nature; they are both part of and develop ramified networks and help develop them. To take this circumstance in consideration, I am following contemporary ethnographic research methods, particularly the concept of multi-sited ethnography (cf. Marcus 1995, 2009, 2013). This is not a fully developed method; rather, it is subjected to an ongoing process of development, revising, and updating since its inception in the 1990s. This is because the live-worlds ethnographers seek to explore are on the move and under construction due to globalization. Moreover, I perceive my research as a contribution to the further development of this method. This type of research design is helpful for sites of research like transmedia festivals, where the global collapses into the local and creates so-called glocal domains (cf. Rob- ertson 1998). As a researcher I move back and forth between several places and sets of data (cf. Falzon 2009). Meanwhile there are some sites of research which I revisited several times in the sense of a Pendulum-Research or a YoYo type fieldwork (cf. Welz 2013; Wulff 2008). My protagonists are moving targets (cf. Welz 1998), who are constantly in motion within networks of communication and mobility. The framework of multi-sited ethnography is not only bound to methodology, but also relates to the topics and sites of research; multi-sited ethnography is often bound to spheres such as art, pop music, urbanism, cultural work or organizations which are traditionally marginalized in anthropology/European ethnology and thus are not rendered as characteristic or part of the discipline inside or outside of the university setting (cf. Marcus et al. 2008). Multi-sited ethnography was, and often is used for studying up or sideways (in opposition to traditional anthropology which often focuses on marginalized or disempowered groups). Although my field of research is by no means homogenous, most of the protagonists are part of the educated middle-class, a background that the researcher shares with their subjects inside the transmedia festival circuit; research among epistemic communities is termed by Marcus (2000) as para-site. There is a lack of ethnographic studies on scenes and festivals related to electronic music. Exceptions are, for example, studies by Schwanhäußer (2010) und Butler (2014) for electronic music scenes, or Chen (2009) and Kirchner

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(2011) within festival research. Thick descriptions of lifeworlds come into being by an intensive contiguity to the field and the subjects of investigation. This can be achieved through active participation, observation or even interaction. I not only visited festivals, but was involved with them in different ways such as being an intern, volunteer, journalist, guide or moderator. I documented my participation and observation through fieldnotes. This involvement not only enabled insights into organizational structures and needs, as well as the constraints of festivals and their networks, but also enabled awareness for the thoughts and emotions of individuals whose lives are linked to this festival circuit, linked to certain scenes and practices. Regular visits, conversations and longer lasting engagement is crucial, as building bonds based on trust is difficult, and it is even more difficult to maintain these bonds. Interviews are a crucial supplementation to the fieldnotes and roughly fifty interviews were collected during the research period. What’s that sound? At avant-garde festivals we find an interesting dialectic between genrefication and experiment. Even though those festivals want to break down and transgress genre limitations, they offer a musical program that remains within a range of certain genres like electro-acoustic or atonal music, sound art, ambient, psychedelic, industrial, noise, or club music such as house, electro, and techno. Looking at the festival line-ups it is always possible to see certain artists who reappear from previous avant-garde festivals or events. Insiders can, however, always find unknown names and artists in the line-up, which is part of the concept. Even though it is a characteristic of avant-garde and experimental music to resist a certain stylization or genrefication, genre is still crucial for festivals and their scenes because they mark their differences through artists from certain genres. Moreover, genre is always intertwined with discourses, not only from the music industry, but also from the scenes. The festivals themselves are the place where genre discourse happens, either through artist descriptions by the industry that are picked up and modified for the program, or through genre discourse that is presented in a day program that offers lectures, discussions and other input on specific music practices and styles and, last but not least, by the audience and attending professionals, who deeply engage in the production of discourses before and after the concerts, for example questioning if something is still style x, genre z or something new. Genres therefore become points of references that enable certain forms of communication, canons, and discourses, which is relevant for the analysis of musical and social practices (cf. Holt 2007). Originally, many festivals had subtitles like “festival for electronic music and related arts” and then replaced electronic music with terms like “adventurous

[email protected] Researching popular music through transmedia festivals 255 music” or “advanced music” to escape the constraints of genre. This is because the focus of avant-garde festivals is more often on certain approaches, strategies or attitudes of music making within particular genres. The aims are innovation, improvisation and experiments within a group of genres, which often result in new genres. Established traditions and conventions of music-making are challenged and are frequently accompanied by visual designs and expressions. The artists themselves often produce work in several genres, art forms or projects that sound out the intersections of genres, so that genre limits are transgressed, which often makes them pioneers of new styles or microgenres. They experiment with dissonances, often played at ear splitting volumes or use uncommon sound- parameters, song-structures or vocal styles. Exceptional and edgy sequencer figures, hardware or software based modulations and rhythmically complex arrangements are prevalent. The integration and transformation of non-western or foreign-national music traditions or sounds is also common. At transmedia festivals we find modern composition next to noise or club music and most events merge serious music, art music and popular music in their curation, trying to transgress the traditional binaries. You can listen to ensembles or experimental performances seated in magnificent theatre halls, as well as in more casual settings like clubs and concert halls. The habitus of the audience is also strongly influenced by the fine arts world, which results in a hybrid of casual, formal and flamboyant styles. Likewise the dresscode is a mix of those styles, although the color black is the dominating “uniform” at those events. The festivals function as mergers of different scenes due to similar interests in the musical experiment and a common history of the pioneers of electronic music, minimal music and such. Club culture also increasingly discovers the historical roots of electronic music which was developed in institutions like music and art academies, radio laboratories and such. Popular music, particularly electronic music is also starting to be more accepted in institutions that were formerly reserved for the domain of serious music. At the same time, the academization of popular music or club culture is progressing and usually all of the established state owned radio stations that used to play mostly classical music now have a program which features experimental and computer music. Just like in jazz, an embourgeoisement of club culture and electronic music is slowly happening. Taste in general is also more eclectic now, and this is also true for music connoisseurs and “nerds” at avant-garde festivals. This merging is also happening due to the increasing economic pressures. Whereby classic, modern composition or opera was financed mostly by funding, popular music was based on record sales. Since the break down in the music industry and the loss of income through record sales, the majority of revenues for everybody, now has to be generated by live concerts. Concerts and festivals have

[email protected] 256 Bianca Ludewig become turbo capitalistic enterprises. For popular music outside the mainstream, funding for festivals became one survival strategy. The research of music festivals brings ambivalences to the forefront that also apply to aspects of popular music, popular culture and art at large. On the one hand, there is a focus on enabling potentials, even utopias, being up to date and cutting edge. On the other hand festivals are part of processes like commodification and aestheticization of experience, providing new trends for a capitalistic market of differences, gentrification of alternative spaces and low income neigh- bourhoods, devaluation of labor, transformation of work in so called creative cities and a lack of awareness towards diversity (gender, class, race). All in all there is often a huge gap between the radical practices they advertise or seek to enable and their own practices within their context ̶ for instance to deal with cultural issues on a political level. Katja Diefenbach (1996) already acknowledged similar problems within rave and club culture twenty years ago and concluded that if new aesthetic practices are implemented and inserted they should aim through social practices towards a change of society. If this aim is missed then just another “techno-luminous-kinetic space of media-distraction” is established. References Butler, M. 2014. Playing with Something That Runs: Technology, Improvisation and Composition in DJ and Laptop Performance. New York et al: Oxford University Press. Chen, K. 2009. Enabling Creative Chaos: The Organization behind the Burning Man Event. Chicago ̶ London: University of Chicago Press. Diefenbach, K. 1996. Hans im Glück. Das Technosubjekt im Freizeitknast. Infopartisan. http://www.trend.infopartisan.net/trd0400/t120400.html. Accessed: 1 November 2017. Falzon, M.-A. 2009. Multi-Sited Ethnography: Theory, Praxis and Locality in Contempo- rary Research. Farnham ̶ Burlington: Ashgate. Holt, F. 2007. Genre in Popular Music. Chicago ̶ London: University of Chicago Press. Kirchner, B. 2011. Eventgemeinschaften: Das Fusion Festival und seine Besucher. Wies- baden: VS Verlag. Marcus, G. E. ̶ 1995. Ethnography in/of the World System: The Emergence of Multi-Sited Ethnography. Annual Reviews Inc. 24: 95 ̶ 117. Ed. 2000. Para-Sites: A Casebook against Cynical Reason. Chicago ̶ London: University of Chicago Press. Marcus, G. E. and Faubion, J. Eds. 2009. Fieldwork Is Not what It Used to Be: Learning Anthropology’s Method in a Time of Transition. New York: Cornell University Press.

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Marcus, G. E, Hess, S. et al. 2013. New Ends for Ethnography. In S. Hess, J. Moser and M. Schwertl Eds. Europäisch-ethnologisch Forschen. Neue Methoden und Konzepte. Berlin: Reimer Verlag: 309 ̶ 318. Marcus, G. E, Rabinow, P, Faubion, J. and Rees, T. 2008. Designs for an Anthropology of the Contemporary. Durham ̶ London: Duke University Press. Robertson, R. 1998. Glokalisierung: Homogenität und Heterogenität in Raum und Zeit. In U. Beck Ed. Perspektiven der Weltgesellschaft. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Schwanhäußer, A. 2010. Kosmonauten des Underground – Ethnografie einer Berliner Szene. Frankfurt M. ̶ New York: Campus Verlag. Teissl, V. 2013. Kulturveranstaltung Festival: Formate, Entstehung, Potenziale. Bielefeld: transcript. Welz, G. ̶ 1998. Moving Targets: Feldforschung unter Mobilitätsdruck. Zeitschrift für Volkskunde 94: 177 ̶ 194. 2013. Die Pragmatik ethnografischer Temporalisierung: Neue Formen der Zeitorganisation in der Feldforschung. In S. Hess, J. Moser and M. Schwertl Eds. Europäisch-ethnologisch Forschen. Neue Methoden und Konzepte. Berlin: Reimer: 39 ̶ 54.

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The underground, dispossession and positionality in Greek experimental music

Danae Stefanou Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, School of Music Studies, Thessaloniki, Greece [email protected] Underground, experimental and improvised practices have attracted considerable research attention recently: as examples of “unpopular” popular music; as in- between genres awaiting to be classified; and as historically overlooked processes that impact on more visible musical histories (e.g. Graham 2012, Beins et al. 2011, Prevost 2011). Such accounts, for all their diversity, are often inevitably centric. The focus is usually on self-funded or institutionally supported initiatives that persist in cultural capitals such as London, Berlin or New York; they are scarcely applicable to the fragmented living conditions and consumption patterns encountered in the geographical, social and economic margins of these centres. Drawing on ethnographic and micro-historical work carried out in Greece after 2009, this paper offers an alternative account of underground experimental practices as deeply precarious modes of music production, whose social and legal invisibility exposes pressing aporias in popular and improvised music studies.

Keywords: Greece, experimental, improvisation, underground, DIY, microhistory

Improvising underground: from community to network In a recent attempt to map and analytically contextualize the musical underground, Stephen Graham (2012, 2016) traces a network of inter-related practices and genres ranging from noise to free improvisation. Graham suggests that, despite its evasive stylistic attributes, the underground functions as a powerful space for social and aesthetic structures which “escape […] post-Fordist capitalist subsumption” (2012: 3). Developments in internet technology have also played a pivotal role in the evolution of this socially and aesthetically configured space, rendering it less of an actual or symbolic locus, and more of a distributed, widely spread out network. In that, Graham sees the potential for a Rancierian “(re-) distribution of the sensible”, whereby existent hierarchies and categories

[email protected] 260 Danae Stefanou that have long informed musical taste and consumption patterns, as well as the aesthetic judgments that often accompany them, are subverted and reconfigured. Simply put, the networked underground can be seen as a large, distributed, open system of communities-in-the-making, made up of individuals across the world, who value music as an open process, and often place less importance on producing and accumulating music-as-capital, and more on experiencing and exploring human relations through music (see also Beins et al. 2011; Prevost 2011). While these observations may certainly strike a chord with experimental and improvising musicians, they also yield significant aporias. What are the implications of the “online turn” for underground music-making? How homogeneous is this seemingly global or hyper-local “underground network”, and to what extent are accounts of the underground informed (or silenced) by locality and centricity? In the following sections, I briefly explore some of these issues through micro-historical data gathered over the period 2009 ̶ 2016 in Greece, and examine the complications inherent in any attempt to theorize the underground through the current framework of both popular music studies and historical/cultural musicology. In so doing, I argue for a more critical, interdisciplinary, and explicitly situated perspective. 634 minutes in 496 photos On the evening of 18 August 2016, fifteen Greek musicians began a group improvisation, standing in circle, right inside the crater of an active volcano, in the remote island of Nisyros, Greece. Their performance was to last several hours, and well into the night, under a full moon. It was also to be documented by The New York Times, and yield a vast amount of digital content, including sound- bites, heavily hashtagged commentary and several hundreds of photos, all swiftly made accessible through various social media platforms within less than forty eight hours after the event. The New York Times piece, published on 22 August, described the event as “an experiment in improvisational site-specific performance”:

The result was an immersive layering of experimental, otherworldly soundscapes, evocative one minute of Sun Ra, the next of Aphex Twin or Autechre. Glitch and drone melded with desert-blown free jazz. Mournful loops of electrified cello over- laid throbbing synthesizer, the music constantly spinning apart and reassembling in- to a whole (Wilder 2016). The event itself, entitled 634 Minutes Inside The Volcano was conceived by Six D.O.G.S. (Six Degrees of Global Separation), an Athens bar and music venue branded as an “all-day, all-night cultural entertainment center”. 634 Minutes Inside The Volcano was co-produced with the Onassis Cultural Center, one of

[email protected] Underground, dispossession and positionality in Greek experimental music 261 the largest venues for contemporary arts and culture in Athens. Founded in late 2010 by the Onassis Foundation, the OCC swiftly became one of the major stakeholders in contemporary experimental music, theatre and visual arts over the last five years, with productions not only on-site at its purpose-built 7-floor, 18,000 sq. m. venue itself, but also in an expanding network of unused or re- purposed sites across Athens. This was one of the first music events outside of Athens to be co-produced by the OCC. The sulphur-heavy atmosphere of the site posed significant health risks and necessitated the presence of ambulances on standby. Several musicians besides the fifteen that ended up playing on the night had been approached earlier in the year and had declined participation during the planning phase of the event, mostly for financial reasons. Performer options ultimately trickled down to the group that finally made it to the volcano, to play together for the first time. The result- ant sense of perpetual disassemblage evoked by The New York Times reviewer was therefore only partly the result of curatorial design, but it does appear to have been a primary concern for Konstantinos Dagritzikos, Six D.O.G.S. owner/director, and main curator of the event: “I wanted it to be such a raw and primitive experience that no documentation can capture it” (Dagritzikos, quoted in Wilder 2016). Taking into account the degree of professional documentation effected and disseminated only a few hours into the event, there is a certain irony in the above perspective, further underlined by a closer look at the press releases and follow- up social media posts around the event. Remarkable emphasis was placed on documenting the uniqueness of the site via a flurry of panoramic snapshots and videos shot from above the crater. At the same time, the specificity of each musician’s background, the sonic texture and content of the music being improvised, as well as the symbolic and actual value of working overtime in hazardous conditions, were obscured or undermined, for the sake of a broader, clearly pre- scribed affective narrative. This was an event forecasted as “magic” even before it happened, and reported as a “magical” experience indeed, moments after it had finished. In reality, some of the musicians in the circle had played together several times before, and had found themselves improvising in a circle or in a loose jam- style formation with minimal or no payment in other occasions, too. These were starkly different contexts however, in venues where all improvisation was a bottom-up, self-regulated and self-organized activity. By the summer of 2016, when the volcano event took place, almost all of the venues and physical sites that had acted as meeting grounds for such improvising musicians had shut down, and many of the artists that had happily defined themselves as amateur while pursu- ing other forms of employment during the past decade, had been gradually led to

[email protected] 262 Danae Stefanou abandon music altogether. This underground, however widely networked it appears, has not exactly escaped capitalist subsumption. If anything, it may be more caught up than ever in the processes of machinist capitalism, including pervasive, precarious labor towards the production of perpetual dream-like narratives (Fisher 2009; Pasquinelli 2011; Raunig 2010). Degrees of dispossession Six D.O.G.S, the main organizing venue for the aforementioned event, opened its doors in late 2009 in Athens, at a time where several self-managed multi- function venues were emerging across the city and nationwide. Lowered rent costs and rising unemployment, combined with a legislation that, at the time, gave preferential tax status to non-profit arts organizations, encouraged a wide and rapid growth of collective ownership, DIY administration and low-budget productions in cheaply rented disused office spaces and basements (Doulgeridis 2010; Gomouza and Zefkili 2012). Many of those venues supported primarily local and amateur artists, and considerable emphasis was placed on experimentation, understood as pretty much synonymous with DIY, improvised and underground cultures. This collapse of several different aesthetic categories also included a significant bridging of ideologies and practices that had previously been expressed as distinct, even opposite entities. Cultural consumption in such spaces was on a rise until 2013, and so was the cross-pollination between different art scenes and musical styles. Free improvisers, electroacoustic composers, interme- dia artists, punk rock, heavy metal and progressive rock bands sharing an interest in less established idioms and keen on experimenting with various forms of noise, open form or broadly unconventional modes of presentation, would find themselves sharing a bill or frequenting the same venues over a period of at least three or four years in Athens (Stefanou 2018). In fact, the culture of open, cross-genre improvisatory musical meetings in Athens had already been established several years back, especially through self- run venues such as Small Music Theatre (1999 ̶ 2009), which put up various forms of open jams on weeknights, and hosted hundreds of emerging artists and bands on weeknights, alongside its more curated free improvisation, noise and experimental program. This led to the formation of a small but persistently active core of dedicated concert-goers who eventually assumed an active music-making identity, quite regardless of professional musical aspirations or views to becoming part of a broader, local or international music industry. In the early 2000s, as SMT founder and director, Anastasis Grivas, recalls “all of a sudden, SMT had become a node, a melting pot, where very quickly everyone was playing with everyone, from different genres and idioms. So to a great degree, eight out of ten

[email protected] Underground, dispossession and positionality in Greek experimental music 263 people in the audience for every gig, were actually musicians, or aspiring musicians, even if they had no formal education as such” (Grivas 2014). The aforementioned opportunities for renting large warehouses or small business spaces and turning them into cooperative multi-function venues around 2009, in a sense offered a continuing, perhaps even more positive-looking outlet to the growing wave of local improvisers that had sprung out of places like SMT in the previous decade. Only months after Small Music Theatre had officially shut down in early 2009, Knot Gallery (2009 ̶ 2013), a venue exclusively dedicated to experimental music and theatre, became a prompt successor. With open improvisation workshops every Sunday, a series of two or three weekly improvised and experimental music concerts, and an international roster of visiting acts ranging from DIY and power electronics to avant-garde composition and historic experimental repertoire, it provided a staple option for meeting and playing with newcomers and more established local experimental artists alike (Stefa- nou 2018). In 2013 ̶ 2014, however, a triptych of law enforcement actions on tax, safety and insurance was orchestrated in Athens, through the reintroduction of largely obsolete measures on venue licensing, some of which had been inactive since their establishment in the mid-1930s. This led to the direct shutdown or voluntary closure of several multi-purpose and DIY venues that had acted as primary hubs for such activity, including Knot Gallery (Artplay, 2014; Ladonikolas, 2013). At the same time, two of the largest bars in downtown Athens (Six D.O.G.S and Romantso), the only multi-function venues to survive the legal clampdown intact, introduced local artist nights with low entrance costs and no rental fee (an initiative that would soon be phased out to return to the normal practice of renting the space, or getting access for free without any share of the door money). Six D.O.G.S also launched its own record label and inaugurated a series of curated nights with local artists at the Onassis Cultural Centre, whose house program had initially focused almost exclusively on international guests and contemporary avant-garde and experimental composers and ensembles. Romantso, another recently opened venue at the heart of one of the city’s more run-down and soon to be gentrified areas, combined club nights with office rental for small start-up businesses and young creative industry professionals. It also showcased an emerging scene of garage and psychedelic rock groups, bundled together in a new themed annual festival of new Greek psychedelic rock, entitled ΨΧ (short for the word “Psyche” pronounced in Greek). Meanwhile, national insurance legislation made it impossible for smaller, no-budget venues to re-open, or even for improvised performances to take place in existent venues, without risking several thousand euros’ worth of fines in case of non-contracted musicians. Simply put, to this day legislation for musicians’

[email protected] 264 Danae Stefanou insurance and employment rights in Greece accounts only for professionals with substantial annual income, who can afford to be registered and taxed as full-time musicians. Yet a significant part of local music-making, improvised or not, occurs on an irregular, amateur basis, by non-professionals, or artists whose primary source of income is not music. Several of the musicians involved in the Nisy- ros volcano performance, and others who refused participation, fall under this broad category, invisible to current policies. Many are informally educated, but have been highly active in community music-making; some have been instrumental in establishing small but internationally-reaching communities around self-run venues, concert series, fanzines or home-run record labels that they helped set up and continue to support. All the while, their activity remains not only unconsumed by mass culture standards, but also deeply precarious, trapped in a liminal space between co-option and poverty, legal affordance and persecu- tion. Beyond mapping: Positionalities and microhistories In The New York Times review of 634 Minutes Inside The Volcano, references to musicians being “pushed out of their comfort zone” are interspersed with descriptions of an audience of 2000 people over ten hours “talking and drinking and eating souvlaki” above the crater, and quotes by the musicians themselves referring to the challenge of this durational performance as much more taxing than playing “eight or ten hours at a wedding” (Wilder 2016). One of the musicians passingly mentions having “no choice” after a while, but to embrace the ritualistic, transcendental character of the event. Being confronted with the unknown and having no choice but to submit oneself to a transcendent situation is, of course, hardly a rare encounter in the condition of capitalist realism (Fisher 2009). It is, however, an entirely different statement if articulated by a well-paid, acknowledged musician who decides to experiment in a group setting, as opposed to a group of deeply undermined, overworked improvisers who have been deprived of access to their preferred modes and spaces of musical self-expression. What changes is largely what feminist theorists like Linda Alcoff (1991) have described as the positionality of the speakers, and the generalized problem of speaking for others, who may lack a number of privileges tacitly present in the speaker’s assumptions. Even if expressed, the second kind of positionality can easily be deemed “too specific” or “too localized” and therefore be gradually rendered invisible, inaudible, irrele- vant. In the preceding sections, I have merely hinted at some constituent elements of a microhistory, a look into “small places” that invite one to ask “larger”, pressing questions (Joyner 1999; Levi 1991) about such positionalities. The-

[email protected] Underground, dispossession and positionality in Greek experimental music 265 se elements could also be re-cast and fleshed-out as a series of interrelated, bigger narratives, on the emergence and subsequent closure of DIY venues, the shift from real-life spaces and communities of practice to symbolic online networks and proliferation of digital content, and the gradual undermining of non-profit musical activity combined with a de-valuation of performing musicians’ labor. However one attempts to put it together, this microhistory also reveals something about the politics of dispossession, effected through what Judith But- ler describes as “the normative matrices that condition who can become a ‘who’ in the domain of the livable” (Butler and Athanasiou 2013: 100). In Marta Blazanovic’s 2011 account of Berlin-based improvised music-making, the predicament of DIY, experimental and underground musicians is summarized as an “uneasy situation … [which] forces them to support themselves by taking ordinary jobs alongside their music-making” (Blazanovic 2011: 47). Yet, despite a flurry of recent press taglines hailing Athens as “the new Berlin” (see Sooke 2017), it is quite clear that for most Athenian experimentalists “taking an ordinary job” is not a predicament; it is a chimeric quest instead. So much so, that ten hours of playing inside the crater of an active volcano, half a day away from home, might be just about the only option left. References Bibliography Alcoff, L. 1991. On the Problem of Speaking for Others. Cultural Critique 20: 5 ̶ 32. Artplay. 2014. Kleinoun Ola ta Mikra Theatra tis Athinas. http://www.artplay.gr/theatro/klinoun-ola-ta-mikra-theatra-tis-athinas/. Accessed: 7 August 2014. Beins, B, Kesten, C, Nauck, G. and Neumann, A. Eds. 2011. echtzeitmusik berlin: selbstbestimmung einer szene / self-defining a scene. Hofheim: Wolke Verlag. Blazanovic, M. 2011. Social History of the Echtzeitmusik Scene in Berlin. In B. Beins, C. Kesten, G. Nauck and A. Neumann Eds. echtzeitmusik berlin: selbstbestimmungeinerszene / self-defining a scene. Hofheim: WolkeVerlag: 29 ̶ 32. Butler, J. and Athanasiou, A. 2013. Dispossession: The Performative in the Political. Cambridge: Polity. Doulgeridis, K. 2010. Ki Omos Anoigoun, Ton Kairo Tis Krisis. Ta Nea. 31 July. Fisher, M. 2009. Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? London: Zero Books. Gomouza, I. and Zefkili, D. 2012. 10 Neoi Polychoroi Zontanevoun Tin Poli. Athino- rama. 25 October. Graham, S. – 2012. Notes from the Underground: A Cultural, Political and Aesthetic Mapping of Un- derground Music. PhD. Goldsmiths College, London. 2016. Sounds of the Underground: A Cultural, Political and Aesthetic Mapping of Under- ground and Fringe Music. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press.

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Joyner, C. W. 1999. Shared Traditions: Southern History and Folk Culture. Urbana: Uni- versity of Illinois. Levi, G. 1991. On Microhistory. In Peter Burke Ed. New Perspectives on Historical Writ- ing. Cambridge: Polity Press: 93 ̶ 113. Ladonikolas, V. 2013. I Tafoplaka ton micron live. http://alive.gr/alive-a- kicking/item/4151. Accessed: 9 August 2014. Pasquinelli, M. 2011. Machinic Capitalism and Network Surplus Value: Towards a Politi- cal Economy of the Turing Machine. http://matteopasquinelli.com/?p=2872. Ac- cessed: 22 December 2016. Prevost, E. 2011. The First Concert: An Adaptive Appraisal of a Meta-Music. Essex: Copula. Raunig, G. 2010. A Thousand Machines: A Concise Philosophy of the Machine as Social Movement. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Sooke, A. 2017. Can Athens Become Europe’s New Arts Capital? BBC Culture http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20170509-can-athens-become-europes-new-arts- capital. Accessed 22 December 2017. Stefanou, D. 2018. “Sharing What We Lack”: Contextualizing Live Experimental Music in Post-2009 Athens. In D. Tragaki Ed. Made in Greece: Studies in Greek Popular Music. London: Routledge: 125 ̶ 136. Wilder, C. 2016. 15 Musicians Spent the Night in an Active Volcano: Listen to What Happened. The New York Times. 23 August. Interview Grivas, Anastasis. 2014. Interview by Danae Stefanou, Athens, 21 June.

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New issues and approaches

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Just for the fun of it? Contemporary strategies for making, distributing and gifting music

Chris Anderton Solent University, School of Media, Arts and Technology, Southampton, Hampshire, United Kingdom [email protected] Technological developments in home recording and internet distribution mean that it is now easier than ever before for musicians both to create music and to distribute it directly to consumers. The traditional economic relations and structures of the recording and copyright industries may largely be bypassed through processes of disintermediation, and musicians have much greater control over their own recorded works than is typically afforded by the commercial recording companies. Many musicians have adopted alternative strategies for making their music available to the public, and it is on one broad subset of these musicians that this paper will focus. These musicians make their music available for free download/streaming through sites such as Bandcamp, Free Music Archive and the Internet Archive, or directly through their own websites. In some cases the music is released through collective netlabels and Creative Commons licenses, while in others copyright is retained and the music is made available on a “name your price” basis with no minimum amount specified. This article will examine such practices in terms of theories of gifting, and in relation to Jacques Attali’s notion of the age or mode of composition.

Keywords: technology, copyright, distribution, free music, gifting, Attali

Introduction In this paper I examine musicians who distribute their own original music as free downloads through websites, blogs or netlabels, or via distribution portals such as the Free Music Archive and the Internet Archive. Some also make use of commercially-motivated sites such as Bandcamp and CD Baby, whose function- ality also enables the free, rather than paid-for, distribution of music. Of particular interest are those musicians whose motivations for doing so seem unconnect-

[email protected] 270 Chris Anderton ed to the promotion of live performance: they are not a calling card or loss leader for some other, profitable, activity. I examine the distribution practices of these musicians through two lenses. The first is to regard free distribution as a case of gift-giving, and to compare the practices of specific musicians against models of gifting found in consumer and marketing research. The second is to consider their practices as a potential manifestation of Jacques Attali’s age of composition (1985) – as a challenge to capitalist modes of production. The paper draws on two case study examples and is presented as the beginning, rather than the end of a research process: as an exploratory study to be built upon in the future. From netlabels to self-release Netlabels, which first emerged in the early 2000s, are perhaps one of the most familiar methods for musicians to release music free-of-charge via Internet distribution. The netlabels act as virtual record labels and cultural intermediaries between artists and consumers, and typically release music under Creative Commons licenses (Galuszka 2011, 2012a, 2012b, 2015). These “some rights retained” licenses allow the musicians to retain the copyright subsisting in their works, but also to facilitate distribution on a non-commercial basis. In some ways, the netlabels are similar to the micro-independent record labels discussed by Strachan (2007), inasmuch as they are often run by music enthusiasts seeking to promote a particular musical sensibility or niche genre taste – essentially extending their hobby or fandom into productive activity. Netlabels filter the music that is submitted to them and make decisions about what music will, or will not, be released through their particular brand. In turn, the brand acts in much the same way as a normal commercial record label, as a guide regarding quality and relevance of the music for a particular intended target market. The key difference between netlabels and the micro-independent record label sector is that netlabels tend to be non-commercial, hence as Whelan (2010) has noted, they exist as part of an attention economy or online community, rather than within the market economy of monetary exchange. In recent years, musicians have begun to sidestep these netlabels and micro- independent labels to make their music available as what may be termed “private press” releases through portal sites such as Bandcamp or through their own websites and blogs. There is, of course, a long history of commercial private press releases dating back to at least the mid-1960s in physical formats such as vinyl, cassette and compact disc. As the majority of those releases were made in small- scale production runs and had limited distribution (at local stores, through mail order catalogues or small ads in magazines, or as merchandise at concerts) many have now attained collectible status and are highly sought after due to their rarity. Audio rips of these recordings regularly appear on obscure music blogs,

[email protected] Just for the fun of it? Contemporary strategies 271 alongside out-of-print records, library music releases and current albums (Ander- ton 2016). Among the latter are privately produced albums of original music which, though lacking the rarity value of physical objects, still have relatively limited distribution through the internet. This is largely because of the niche genre nature of the releases: they appeal to a relatively small audience and those audiences have created their own inward-looking networks that rarely engage with the mainstream music industry. The niche genres involved were originally based around experimental and electronic music (Whelan 2010), but as recording equipment has become more affordable, many more forms of music can now be found, including pop, rock, dark wave and heavy metal. The niche market musicians and audiences involved in such networks are the focus of this paper, and in particular those musicians who have chosen to distribute their music on a completely non-commercial basis or to offer a free download option on a “pay-what- you-want” model. The latter is facilitated by distribution portals such as Bandcamp and CD Baby where audiences are free to make a financial contribution to support the artist, should they wish to do so. Two contrasting examples have been chosen to explore the issues raised by these practices: the electronic musician Mery Ann, and the post-rock musician Cloudkicker. The attitudes of these musicians to making and releasing music are indicative of how some parts of the non-commercial “private press” sector operates today. Case study 1: Mery Ann Maria Aguilar, who composes and records as Mery Ann, is a Spanish electronic artist who has released more than twenty albums since the early 2000s. She is the co-owner of Zodiac Musick which launched in 2003. As a virtual record label, Zodiac Musick freely distributed and promoted unsigned music from more than a dozen contributing artists, though it seems to have become inactive since 2015. As Mery Ann, Aguilar has continued to release music directly through her own blog. She currently averages two or three releases a year with her musical style varying from album to album to encompass Berlin School electronica, abstract/experimental productions, synth-pop and retrowave. The artwork for Mery Ann’s early releases (until 2011) featured the Zodiac Musick logo, and the Zodi- ac Musick website demonstrates a distinctly antagonistic approach to understanding the music industry:

Our mission is to promote and distribute unsigned musical artists, whose work would almost certainly go unnoticed, due to the insane, and often despicable practices of the recording industry, and major labels. Major labels of course, have many other intentions, not least of which, is the making of huge sums of money for themselves, and all the flunky underlings that encompass the nightmare that is the music recording industry of the new millennium (Zodiac Musick s.a).

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This anti-capitalist discourse of art versus commerce is shared by many working in the micro-independent sector, as is a commitment to foregrounding and supporting new and less mainstream music (Strachan 2007). This latter discourse is also seen in Zodiac Musick’s ideological stance:

We are about the music, first and foremost, and this is our attempt at the most altruistic form of support to our musically creative brothers and sisters around the world (Zodiac Musick s.a). The label acknowledges the existence of the system of copyright, noting that artists retain ownership in their works, but also note that distribution of them is provided solely for personal use by downloaders. Similarly, it is asserted that no money should be expected or requested from those who download and listen to the works, thus reinforcing the site’s role in promoting rather than commercializ- ing the music that it distributes. Since late 2012, Mery Ann has operated as a blog site through which back catalogue releases and new albums are distributed using the cyberlocker Me- diafire. The Zodiac Musick logo no longer appears on the artwork of new releases, though back catalogue items remain available from the Zodiac Musick website. The artwork of Mery Ann’s new releases makes no mention of copyright, nor is it mentioned on the blog through which they are distributed. Under Euro- pean law copyright still subsists in these recordings, but the lack of assertion of these rights could be regarded as an implicit critique of the system, and further support for the free distribution of music. The blog also contains no contact information or artist biography, so the music is left to speak for itself. Case study 2: Cloudkicker Ben Sharp, who has released music as Cloudkicker since the late 2000s, is a largely studio-based multi-instrumentalist from Columbus, Ohio in the US. He holds down a day job and makes albums in his spare time using home recording equipment. He initially picked up a following on his MySpace page, prior to launching on Bandcamp and releasing a range of music from post-rock and ambient metal to experimental guitar soundscapes and the heavy metal sub-genre Djent. He has now released fourteen albums as Cloudkicker, but has been on hiatus since 2015 due to changes in his work and personal life. Nearly all of his releases are offered on a “name-your-price” basis, with free downloads available without the need to input an email address or any other contact details. The only album not released on this model is Live with Intronaut, which is a record of his one and only live tour as Cloudkicker, on which he used session musicians to form a band. This record is released on a commercial basis through Amazon, iTunes and so on, so that those musicians can receive income from sales. It is not

[email protected] Just for the fun of it? Contemporary strategies 273 available to download from his Bandcamp site, though it may be streamed there. The majority of his music is otherwise released under a Creative Commons 3.0 license, which allows unlimited sharing and adaptation of his music so long as attribution is given.

I get emails all the time from people who feel really guilty about not being able to pay me what they think my music is worth. I would never put someone on a guilt trip for that because I get such a kick out of people simply listening to my music, and I think people really get that about me (quoted by Lawrence, 2014). Sharp does offer merchandise sales (T-shirts, short-run vinyl and CD, and so on) through his site, and he justifies selling these items on the basis of covering the costs incurred in their manufacture – an argument that he does not use, perhaps strangely, in relation to his music downloads.

I generally don’t care about money when it comes to music. In fact, it has the potential to be burdensome. But that’s coming from someone who would have a decent income with or without music. […] But yes, I do get pleasure and validation from the fact that everything I do as Cloudkicker reflects directly on me and no one else, for better or worse. It’s very rewarding (quoted by Apocalyptic Demise, 2017). Sharp has been the subject of numerous interviews about his music and approach to distribution, which contrasts sharply with the example of Mery Ann who maintains a relatively minimal online presence. Nevertheless, both artists make their music available for free download – a practice that may be discussed through varying notions of gift giving. Forms of gifting The literature on gifting refers to four main types: dyadic, polyadic, pure and monadic. The dyadic form of gifting is typically regarded as a reciprocal act between people in which there is an (often unstated) obligation to repay the gift in some way. It is largely discussed in terms of face to face relationships, such as neighbours, family, or groups of friends. This form of gifting only partially fits the examples discussed above, as there is no reciprocity expected from those who download the music released by the artists even though, as the Ben Sharp quote suggested, some fans feel that they should compensate the artist by making a financial contribution under the “name-your-price” offer. Geisler (2006) extended the dyadic model into a polyadic form of gifting in which multiple people gift to multiple others – a rhizomatic network characteristic of peer-to-peer music networks that require users to both upload and download music in order to continue accessing the network. Again, this only partially fits the examples discussed above, since they use a client-server model of distri-

[email protected] 274 Chris Anderton bution rather than a peer-to-peer system; hence, downloaders need to visit the artist’s website in order to access a Bandcamp download or cyberlocker link made available by the artist (though cyberlocker links are sometimes posted on other people’s blogs). Some aspects of the artist-fan relationships discussed above may be described as a form of “pure gifting”, or what Belk and Coon (1993) have described as the “agapic love paradigm” – an unselfish and altruistic form that aims to please the recipient and expects nothing in return. However, I would argue that the sort of gifting discussed in my case studies might best be described as a combination of dyadic, pure and monadic. A monadic gift, or “self-gift”, as described by Mick and DeMoss (1990) is one that is either motivated by a thera- peutic need (to cheer us up when we are down) or as a reward or treat for an accomplishment achieved (such as getting a job or passing an exam). I suggest that this can be extended and re-cast to include the pleasure derived from making music and then freely sharing it with others. As Ben Sharp remarked earlier, making music gives him pleasure and validation, yet he also gets a kick out of people listening to his music. Making music is a monadic gift to himself (similar to Maslow’s (1999) notion of self-actualisation) while sharing it with others could be seen as a pure gift since he doesn’t expect to receive anything in return. Yet, there are fans who feel obliged to donate money or leave comments about the music, which then converts that pure gift into a dyadic relationship instead. In contrast, Mery Ann’s blog offers no way for downloaders to donate to the artist, and while the pages include Blogger’s standard comments box, she does not encourage people to leave comments or feedback. The apparent lack of concern for feedback, and the lack of assertion of copyright on the blog, gives the appearance of a pure gift, though it could also be described as a form of monadic self-gifting – of providing an outlet for her musical self-expression. Attali’s mode of composition This discussion of gifting now brings me to the ideas presented by Jacques Attali in his book Noise. The Political Economy of Music (1985), which was originally published in French in 1977. Attali argues that music can foreshadow changes in society, and outlines four overlapping networks, modes or forms of composition and distribution that he terms sacrificing, representing, repeating and composing – each of which developed in a different historical era. In sacrificing, music is part of public and religious ceremony, and everyone is involved. Attali associates this mode with pre-capitalist societies and charac- terises it as an era of participatory musical performance. In representing, music becomes a commodified spectacle in the form of concerts or festivals, or a commodity in the form of printed scores and the commercial manufacture of musical

[email protected] Just for the fun of it? Contemporary strategies 275 instruments. He traces these developments to the eighteenth century, and suggests that this era saw the separation and specialization of professional musicians, composers and instrument makers from those who were positioned as listeners or consumers. For Attali, this was the beginning of competitive capitalism and the accumulation of wealth for performers, publishers and instrument manufacturers. In repeating, the consumption of music becomes associated with capitalist mass production and the stockpiling of recorded music. In this mode, which begins near the end of the nineteenth century, a significant proportion of the surplus value created by the recorded music industry must be spent on creating demand for its products: in making consumers believe that there is both use- value and exchange value in mass produced recorded music artefacts, and that we as consumers should keep buying new music even though we have already stockpiled a lot of it already. A more recent manifestation of this is that we should subscribe to cloud services such as Spotify to access millions of recordings even though we will never have the time or inclination to listen to them all. In composing, Attali argues that, in a somewhat vaguely envisioned and utopian future, music offers a break from capitalist modes of production and will be:

performed for the musicians’ own enjoyment, as self-communication, with no other goal than his own pleasure… – [a] solitary, egotistical, non-commercial act [that is] the only possible challenge to repetitive power (Attali 1985: 32). Attali offers no fully concrete examples of this age or mode of composition, but instead writes about how individuals may derive “pleasure in being rather than having” (Attali 1985: 132). The age of composition is, then, one in which there is an ongoing process of creative production that is enjoyed in the moment, rather than a stockpiling of finished and purchased objects. There is some potential for this within the discussion of free distribution and self-release above, in terms of how these acts may be considered to be pure gifts or examples of monadic self-gifting, though it may be argued that the use of the internet to distribute the music precludes the solitary self-communication that Attali envisions. Moreover, there are overlaps with dyadic gift-giving in these musicians’ practices and of commercial activity in the case of Cloudkicker’s merchandise offer, demonstrating that it is difficult to fully break with capitalist modes of production. In addition, the very act of downloading could be seen as a stockpiling of music – something that Attali criticizes as being part of the mode of repetition – and is itself facilitated through internet service providers and others that are profit-seeking organisations.

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Conclusion Over the past few years there has been growth in non-commercial self-release and private press models of distribution, and a reduction in the importance of netlabels. There has also been growth in musicians making and distributing music for the fun of it in the form of monadic and pure gifting. However, the non-monetary economy is often only possible because the musicians are making use of the products of the commercial sector, such as cyberlockers, Blogger and Bandcamp. On one hand this is a creative use of the available technologies and services, but on the other it raises questions regarding longer-term viability and access. For instance, will Bandcamp and similar services continue to support free downloads as their business models mature in the future? In any case, there seems to be little challenge to the capitalist mode of production, since, in a way, many of these practices are parasitic upon them. I would argue that, while there is some suggestion of Attali’s mode of composition, it remains embryonic in form, while the continued use of downloads leads, inevitably, to the kind of stockpiling that Attali criticises. The distribution practices discussed in this paper are also reliant on the musicians who make the music having access to other sources of income. This serves to limit the number of people who can do it and makes the practice less open and democratic than it might at first seem. Theories of gifting would seem to be more promising in terms of understanding the practices discussed above, but further research is needed to uncover the feelings and beliefs of musicians who make their music available for free. References Anderton, C. 2016. Sonic Artefacts: “Record Collecting” in the Digital Age. IASPM@Journal 6 (1): 85 ̶ 113. Apocalyptic Demise. 2017. Interview – Ben Sharp of Cloudkicker. Apocalytic Demise, 16 March. https://apocalypticdemise.com/2017/03/16/interview-ben-sharp-of- cloudkicker/. Accessed: 29 June 2018. Attali, J. 1985. Noise. The Political Economy of Music. Minneapolis ̶ London: Universi- ty of Minnesota Press. Baym, N. K. 2011. The Swedish Model: Balancing Markets and Gifts in the Music Indus- try. Popular Communication 14 (1): 22 ̶ 38. Belk, R. 2014. Sharing Versus Pseudo-Sharing in Web 2.0. Anthropologist 18 (1): 7 ̶ 23. Belk, R. and Coon, G. 1993. Gift Giving as Agapic Love: An Alternative to the Exchange Paradigm Based on Dating Experiences. Journal of Consumer Research 20: 393 ̶ 417. CD Baby. https://www.cdbaby.com/. Accessed: 29 June 2018. Cloudkicker. http://cloudkickermusic.com/music. Accessed: 29 June 2018. Free Music Archive. http://freemusicarchive.org/. Accessed: 29 June 2018. Galuszka, P. –

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2011. Netlabel: Independent Non-Profit Micro-Enterprise or just Another Player in the Music Industry? In M. Naworjczyk Ed. Economy in Changing Society: Consumption, Markets, Organizations and Social Policies. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publish- ing: 173 ̶ 190. 2012a. Netlabels and democritization of the recording industry. First Monday 17 (7): s.p. 2012b. The Rise of the Non-Profit Popular Music Sector: The Case of Netlabels. In A.-V. Karja, L. Marshall and J. Brusila Eds. Music, Business and Law: Essays on Contem- porary Trends in the Music Industry. Helsinki: IAPM Norden ̶ Turku: International Institute for Popular Music: 65 ̶ 90. 2015. New Economy of Fandom. Popular Music and Society 38 (1): 25 ̶ 43. Giesler, M. 2006. Cybernetic Gift Giving and Social Drama: A Netnography of the Nap- ster File-Sharing Community. In M. D. Ayers Ed. Cybersounds: Essays on Virtual Music Culture. New York: Peter Lang: 21 ̶ 56. Hesmondhalgh, D. 1998. Post-Punk’s Attempt to Democritise the Music Industry: The Success and Failure of Rough Trade. Popular Music 16 (3): 255 ̶ 274. Internet Archive. Netlabels collection. https://archive.org/details/netlabels. Accessed: 29 June 2018. Lawrence, P. 2014. An Interview with Ben Sharp AKA Cloudkicker. Emptylight- house.com, 12 August. http://emptylighthouse.com/interview-ben-sharp-aka- cloudkicker-720895285. Accessed: 29 June 2018. Maslow, A. H. 1999. Toward a Psychology of Being. New York: John Wiley and Sons. Mery Ann. http://meryannmusic.blogspot.co.uk/. Accessed: 29 June 2018. Mick, D. G. and DeMoss. M. 1990. To Me from Me: A Descriptive Phenomenology of Self-Gifts. Advances in Consumer Research 17 (1): 677 ̶ 682. Strachan, R. 2007. Micro-Independent Record Labels in the UK: Discourse, DIY Cultural Production and the Music Industry. European Journal of Cultural Studies 10 (2): 245 ̶ 265. Whelan, A .M. 2010. Free Music and Trash Culture: The Reconfiguration of Musical Value Online. In K. Zemke and D. Brunt Eds. 2009 IASPM Australia ̶New Zealand Conference: What’s it Worth: “Value” and Popular Music. Dunedin, New Zealand: IASPM ̶ ANZ: 67 ̶ 71. Zodiac Musick. s.a. Who we are. Zodiac Musick https://sites.google.com/site/zodiacmusick/Welcome/who-we-are. Accessed: 29 June 2018.

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Towards posthegemonic popular music studies

Artur Szarecki [email protected] In this paper, I argue that the implicit or explicit dependence on hegemony theory within popular music studies has resulted in diminishing the relevance of the aural dimension of culture and neglecting the wider consideration of the political effects of sound. Instead, I advocate a turn towards posthegemonic theory which employs vocabularies of “affect”, “habit” and “multitude” to account for the physical effects of sonic intensities without trying to collapse them into meanings. Offering a brief analysis of two contrasting examples of popular music practices in corporate environment – company song and lip dub – I demonstrate how posthegemonic approach might extend the analytical capacities of popular music studies by providing ways of thinking and doing politics that are not dependent on establishing consent or exercising coercion, but rather on immanent processes that are activated and reproduced beneath consciousness.

Keywords: popular music, posthegemony, sound, body, affect, power

Introduction In February 2010, a journalist from one of the leading newspapers in Poland leaked a video depicting employees of the local branch of the French supermar- ket chain, Auchan, singing an anthem in praise of their company. A group of regular-looking people were filmed in a recording studio where they performed We Are the World, the hit single written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie in 1985 for an African famine relief campaign. Just like in the original version, the participants were singing each verse of the song individually, later joining in together for the chorus: “It’s been ten years, and one another, and we’re still in the lead as we strive for success. The competition doesn’t have a chance, we will conquer them again; Auchan is invincible, as we are the best”. The response from the company was immediate and firm. Threatening to take legal action against anyone who shared the video, they managed to erase it from most of the social media platforms, arguing that it violated the privacy of their employees, who prepared the recording for internal company use only.

[email protected] 280 Artur Szarecki

However, before its removal, the video was already trending on YouTube with over seventy thousand views. And the response from the public was mostly un- favorable. Despite Auchan’s claim that it was the employees who came up with the idea, for many commenters it was apparent that the company somehow co- erced them to perform the song. In the heat of online discussions, there were accusations of brainwashing and comparisons to mass songs – a form of musical propaganda that peaked during Stalinism – and some more resentful commenters even targeted the employees themselves for their alleged subservience and lack of dignity (Szarecki 2014). Overall, the video generated a significant backlash among the public that spread both online and through traditional media. Ironically, the same year – 2010 – was when lip dub reached its peak popularity spreading into corporate culture. Lip dub is a type of music video which involves a group of people who lip sync to a song as well as dance and/or act, while the camera follows them through the facilities of the institution they work for or represent. The video is usually recorded in one long take, which requires working out a detailed choreography beforehand and then real-time synchronization during shooting. Lip dubbing initially spread among educational institutions in Poland, but was soon co-opted into corporate culture, with many of the top brands uploading their videos to YouTube. None of these, however, has generated an outcry comparable to the Auchan’s song. This might be because the practice of lip dubbing has emerged out of amateur practices of video making and sharing on the Internet and, as such, has been mostly perceived as an integral part of the digital participatory culture. For instance, Tom Johnson, a technical writer who blogs about new media and their impact on society, has described good lip dub as having – or at least giving the impression of having – the following features: spontaneity, authenticity, participation and fun (Johnson 2007). In fact, the meticulously choreographed performances do seem to be genuinely enjoyable to the cast and, in consequence, voluntary, as if offering a temporary liberation from the formalized relationships in the office and, instead, allowing to introduce the positive features mentioned by Johnson into the work environment. However, I believe that the differing reactions to both phenomena – the public outcry over Auchan’s song and the almost unanimous embracement of corporate lip dub – actually reveal a gap in our thinking about the relationship between popular music and power. The majority of research in the cultural studies lineage has been predominantly focused on hegemonic articulations, privileg- ing meaning-making over the immediate corporeal responses to sound. As a result, mechanisms of power that involve neither coercion nor consent but are contingent on somatic attunement have been precluded from analysis. Therefore, in the remainder of this paper, I am going to argue that the prevalence of what I

[email protected] Towards posthegemonic popular music studies 281 call “hegemonic imagination” has led to neglecting the political relevance of the sonic dimension of popular music, and that overcoming this deficiency requires us to adopt posthegemonic approach which shifts attention to immanent encounters between bodies, foregrounding their potentialities to resonate with sound. The pitfalls of hegemonic imagination Theorizing and interfering in the relations of power that make up contemporary capitalist societies has always been high on the cultural studies’ agenda. En- gagement with politics was repeatedly brought up as what differentiates its approach from related analytical formations within social sciences and humanities (Barker 2000; Bennett 1998; Grossberg 2010; Hall 1992; Rodman 2015). Conse- quently, popular music has been of interest to cultural studies insofar as it is one of the significant areas where power relations are established and maintained through culture. Historically, this approach can be traced back to Antonio Gramsci’s (1971) famous contention that power can be conceived either in terms of political domination or cultural hegemony. The former term relates to exercising power through the use of force; the latter to “intellectual and moral leadership” which is obtained by consent rather than coercion. Accordingly, hegemony involves cultural practices that contribute to establishing an authoritative set of meanings and representations which upholds the worldview and power of dominant social groups. In Laclau’s (1977) terms, hegemony primarily consists in articulations, that is, setting up connections between concepts in order to produce an arbitrary closure within the discursive field whereby meaning becomes temporarily fixed. This way social antagonisms are adjourned, creating conditions for the legitimization of underlying power relations (see also: Laclau and Mouffe 1985). While there have been some reservations against reducing the emergence of the social order to the operation of discursive practices alone (Hall 1986), the prevalence of articulation as both the constitutive theory and method of cultural studies (Slack 1996) has led to conceiving popular music primarily in terms of ideological struggles over hegemony. Consequently, Roy Shuker (1994: x) claimed that the core analytical issue addressed within the field should be “how meaning is produced in popular music”. In a similar vein, Keith Negus (1996) emphasized that popular music is always culturally mediated, that is, articulated with multiple concepts and ideological formations as it passes through time and moves between different contexts. This kind of approach became widespread and continued to inform the development of popular music studies (Negus and Hesmondhalgh 2001). In this sense, it can be subsumed under the umbrella term of “hegemonic imagination”, which I define through three interrelated features: (1) popular music is conceived

[email protected] 282 Artur Szarecki primarily (or solely) as a signifying phenomenon, therefore (2) its political effects are assumed to manifest through practices of attributing and decoding meanings and, consequently, (3) they are approached via textual analysis or similar methods drawn primarily from literary studies. However, if we understand popular music’s relation with power only in terms of articulating meanings, then we privilege textual and visual aspects of culture, while ignoring or at least marginalizing its sonic dimension (Brabazon 2012). Therefore, in numerous accounts the analysis hinges on the lyrics, on the statements from the artists and journalists, or on the iconography appearing in music videos and the look of the performers, as that from which the ideological meanings can be decoded. If sound is considered at all, it is as aesthetic or semiotic component of the music, rather than material force with direct political effects. A quick look at the analytical categories that are prevalent in popular music studies books can be instructive in this context. For example, in Key Terms in Popular Music and Culture, published in 1999, there is no entry on “sound” at all, yet there are separate entries on “ideology”, “discourse” and “text” (Horner and Swiss 1999). Similarly, Roy Shuker’s Popular Music: Key Concepts, originally published in 1998, but now in its fourth edition, does have a separate entry on “sound”, but merely concerns its production, recording, and reproduction, which effectively reduces sound to a technical parameter. And the categories consistent with “hegemonic imagination”, including hegemony itself, are still prevalent (Shuker 2017). This short summary is, of course, in no way indicative of the breadth and depth of cultural approaches to popular music (see, for example: Bennett et al. 2006; Bennett and Waksman 2015), but it nevertheless points to some prevailing tendencies in a narrower area of popular music studies’ conceptualizations of power. As a result, mechanisms of power that hinge on non-discursive responses to sound remain beyond the scope of analysis. Ironically, while hegemonic imagination is obsessively concerned with the issue of voice – who has it and who does not, who speaks on behalf of whom, etc. – it actually concerns soundless reality, in the sense that the analysis is oblivious to the political potential emerging in direct embodied encounters with sound. Towards posthegemony One way to remedy this oversight is to re-think the relationship between popular music and power in posthegemonic terms. This approach stems, on the one hand, from critical reevaluations within cultural studies themselves (Lash 2007), and – on the other – from the developments in postcolonial theory, in particular within

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Latin American Studies, with Jon Beasley-Murray (2010) providing probably its most fully-fledged account. His most basic premise is that social order was never secured or, for that matter, transformed through ideology. Instead, he claims, power works through immanent processes on the level of affect, habit and multitude. All those terms indicate forms of organization that take place beneath language and discourse and, therefore, have remained outside the scope of hegemonic imagination. However, each also invokes a particular set of already-existing theories: a series of works on affect spanning from Baruch Spinoza (1996), to Gilles Deleuze (1988; Deleuze and Guattari 1987), to Brian Massumi (2002, 2015); the notion of habitus developed by Pierre Bourdieu (1977, 1984, 1990); and the concept of multitude as found in the works of Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri (2000, 2004, 2009). Taken together, they constitute the analytical apparatus of posthegemonic approach. The notion of affect pertains to impersonal flows of intensity that pass in- between bodies, augmenting or diminishing their capacities to act. As such, affect is ontologically prior to the emergence of subjective feelings or signifying practices, and cannot be reduced to any of the latter. Rather, it should be conceived as a constantly changing assemblage of forces that generate the world of extensive entities we encounter. However, as affect passes through bodies it leaves traces which accrue in the form of a habitus – a set of corporeal disposi- tions that reproduce consistent and regular patterns of behavior. Habits, then, are an affective residue immanently generated by repeated encounters with other bodies. Occasionally, those encounters can make a multiplicity of bodies to coa- lesce together and act in unison. The multitude, then, is a collective subject-in- the-making which emerges when bodies come into contact and their capacities and predispositions resonate with each other, self-organizing into a non- hierarchical and open-ended network structured by affect and habit. Together, the three aforementioned concepts can provide us with a thoroughly immanent account of power. In this view, establishing, preserving and challenging power relations does not require mediation of cultural meanings; rather, it consists in re-composition and movement of bodies – “a series of modulations in and through affect” (Beasley-Murray 2010: 132). Consequently, to commence with a properly posthegemonic popular music studies, sound has to be rethought as an intensive force. This requires shifting attention from its formal properties inferred from what is heard – which pertain to the extensive and the qualitative – to the vibrational movements of sounds and bodies that take place in the in-betweenness of an encounter (Goodman 2010; Gallagher 2016). In other words, we have to conceive both sounds and bodies not as already fully formed objects in the world, but rather in a fluid state of

[email protected] 284 Artur Szarecki perpetual becoming, as they continually change and re-compose while coming into contact with one another. A full-fledged account of sound congruous with the relational ontology that informs posthegemonic approach, is – I believe – yet to be developed. However, some recent attempts, like the concept of “sonic flux” (Cox 2011), or the idea of conceiving sound as “intermaterial practice” (Eidsheim 2015), might provide good starting points. Crucially, what posthegemonic popular music studies should be primarily concerned with are dynamic vibrational events and how they emerge out of complex material interactions in particular spatiotemporal and interactional contexts. Sound can act as catalyzer of these events by intensifying or de-intensifying potential encounters in a physical environment in which it is emitted and propagated or, in other words, to immanently re-compose the multitude, that is, a collectivity of singular bodies connected by affect and organized through habitual patterns of behavior. Conclusion According to Scott Lash (2010), contemporary capitalism is becoming more and more intensive, increasingly drawing on the heterogeneity of life, instead of the ordered labor process, to “accumulate as difference”. Accordingly, it no longer seeks ideological legitimization, as in trying to create the illusion of transcend- ence to assert the sovereignty of its institutions; rather, it relies on biopolitical strategies that are contingent on direct modulation of affect (see also: Clough 2008; Massumi 2002, 2015). One of those strategies involves the deployment of sonic intensities in order to induce a series of corporeal effects that are activated and reproduced beneath language and consciousness. I refer to this mode of power as “sonic governance” (Szarecki 2017). Lip dub can be regarded as an integral part of this transformation, inextrica- bly linked to the exhaustion of employing music as an ideological vehicle within corporate culture, historically exemplified by performances of the “company song” (Nissley et al. 2002). In contrast to the latter, lip dub directly involves bodies – their movements, gestures, rhythms, patterns of interaction, etc. In this sense, it operates not through ideological articulations of organizational culture, but rather through immanent priming of encounters within the work environment. Therefore, lip dub can be conceived as a posthegemonic strategy of power that: (1) pertains to the attunement of bodies with their environment and involves modulating the intensity of their encounters; (2) by playing on the affective potential of popular music to move bodies, both literally and metaphorically, in order to induce or shift their patterns of behavior; (3) to create a visceral sense of collectivity, of being-together-in-sync that works through contagion rather than by convincing. This can be mapped into the posthegemonic model of affect,

[email protected] Towards posthegemonic popular music studies 285 habit, and multitude as: (1) priming potential encounters through the deployment of sonic intensities; (2) embodied action through movement and dance; and (3) production of togetherness through rhythmic entrainment. This is not to say that lip dub has nothing to do with ideologies. In fact, the idea of bringing “fun” and “playfulness” into the workplace is one of the essential facets of present-day management theory (Fleming 2009). The reason is that these activities are believed to foster creativity and innovation. Both qualities cannot be attained through sheer obedience and following the rules; rather, they are believed to stem from unconstrained self-expression. This necessitates a shift towards a form of governance which, instead of forcing individuals into compli- ance, works through their autonomy, that is, attempts to frame and partially an- ticipate agency by shaping the context in which choice is exercised. Accordingly, lip dub can be seen in terms of sonic governance that employs popular music to perform exactly this task. In other words, to immanently restructure the space of possible encounters and actions, by staging and regulating organizational atmos- pheres of “creativity” and “fun”. On a final note, then, hegemony and posthegemony are not mutually exclusive; rather, they presuppose each other and can reinforce their respective effects. So while company songs – like the one performed by Auchan’s employees – mostly rely on ideological effects indicative of hegemony, they also make use of material capacities of sound and music, thus being, at least to a certain extent, posthegemonic. Consequently, to understand lip dub’s relation with power we should not neglect hegemonic articulations that provide particular rationalities for its application in the corporate milieu. Nevertheless, exercising coercion or acquiring consent cannot fully explain the workings of power inherent in lip dub, as the practice seems specifically designed as a form of sonic governance aimed at the management of multitude through the deployment of sonic intensities of popular music and the introduction of new forms of bodily conduct associated with it. Therefore, to understand the impact of lip dub and similar practices, increasingly prominent in contemporary capitalism, popular music studies must extend its analytical reach by adopting a posthegemonic approach. Acknowledgements This paper was supported by the National Science Centre, Poland (grant no. 2014/13/D/HS2/00898).

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References Barker, C. 2000. Cultural Studies: Theory and Practice. London ̶ Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications. Beasley-Murray, J. 2010. Posthegemony: Political Theory and Latin America. Minneap- olis: University of Minnesota Press. Bennett, A, Shank, B and Toynbee, J. Eds. 2006. The Popular Music Studies Reader. London ̶ New York: Routledge. Bennett, A. and Waksman, S. Eds. 2015. The SAGE Handbook of Popular Music. Lon- don: SAGE Publications. Bennett, T. 1998. Culture: A Reformer’s Science. London: SAGE Publications. Bourdieu, P. ̶ 1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1984. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste. London: Routledge. 1990. The Logic of Practice. Cambridge: Polity Press. Brabazon, T. 2012. Popular Music: Topics, Trends and Trajectories. London: SAGE Publications. Clough, P. T. 2008. The Affective Turn: Political Economy, Biomedia, and Bodies. Theo- ry, Culture and Society 25 (1): 1 ̶ 22. Cox, Ch. 2011. Beyond Representation and Signification: Toward a Sonic Materialism. Journal of Visual Culture 10 (2): 145 ̶ 161. Deleuze, G. 1988. Spinoza: Practical Philosophy. San Francisco: City Light Books. Deleuze, G. and Guattari, F. 1987. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Eidsheim, N. S. 2015. Sensing Sound: Singing and Listening as Vibrational Practice. Durham ̶ London: Duke University Press. Fleming, P. 2009. Authenticity and the Cultural Politics of Work. Oxford: Oxford Univer- sity Press. Gallagher, M. 2016. Sound as Affect: Difference, Power and Spatiality. Emotion, Space and Society 20: 42 ̶ 48. Goodman, S. 2010. Sonic Warfare: Sound, Affect, and the Ecology of Fear. Cambridge: The MIT Press. Gramsci, A. 1971. Selection from the Prison Notebooks. New York: International Pub- lishers. Grossberg, L. 2010. Cultural Studies in the Future Tense. Durham: Duke University Press. Hall, S. 1986. On Postmodernism and Articulation: An Interview with Stuart Hall, Ed. L. Grossberg. Journal of Communication Inquiry 10 (2): 45 ̶ 60. Hall, S. 1992. Cultural Studies and Its Theoretical Legacies. In L. Grossberg, C. Nelson and P. Treichler Eds. Cultural Studies. London ̶ New York: Routledge: 277–294. Hardt, M. and Negri, A. ̶ 2000. Empire. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 2004. Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire. New York: Penguin. 2009. Commonwealth. Cambridge: Belknap.

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Horner, B and Swiss, T. Eds. 1999. Key Terms in Popular Music and Culture. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Johnson, T. 2007. Lip Dub Video Clip Captures the Essence of the Web – Spontaneity, Authenticity, Participation, Fun. http://idratherbewriting.com/2007/06/05/lip-dub- video-analysis/. Accessed: 20 December 2017. Laclau, E. 1977. Politics and Ideology in Marxist Theory. London: New Left Books. Laclau, E. and Mouffe, C. 1985. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic Politics. London: Verso. Lash, S. ̶ 2007. Power after Hegemony: Cultural Studies in Mutation? Theory, Culture and Society 24: 55 ̶ 78. 2010. Intensive Culture: Social Theory, Religion and Contemporary Capitalism. London: SAGE Publications. Massumi, B. ̶ 2002. Parables of the Virtual: Movement, Affect, Sensation. Durham: Duke University Press. 2015. Politics of Affect. Cambridge, MA: Polity Press. Negus, K. 1996. Popular Music in Theory: An Introduction. Cambridge, MA: Polity Press. Negus, K. and Hesmondhalgh, D. Eds. 2001. Popular Music Studies. London: Arnold. Nissley, N, Taylor, S. and Butler, O. 2002. The Power of Organizational Song: And Or- ganizational Discourse and Aesthetic Expression of Organizational Culture. Tamara: Journal of Critical Postmodern Organization Science 2 (1): 47 ̶ 62. Rodman, G. B. 2015. Why Cultural Studies? Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell Shuker, R. ̶ 1994. Understanding Popular Music. London ̶ New York: Routledge. 2017. Popular Music: Key Concepts. London ̶ New York: Routledge. Slack, J. D. 1996. The Theory and Method of Articulation in Cultural Studies. In D. Mor- ley and K. H. Chen Eds. Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in Cultural Studies. Lon- don ̶ New York: Routledge: 113 ̶ 129. Spinoza, B. 1996. Ethics. London: Penguin Books. Szarecki, A. ̶ 2014. Od pieśni masowych do korporacyjnych hymnów: Muzyka, ciało i praca w kontekście transformacji systemów władzy. Kultura Współczesna 2 (82): 134 ̶ 148 2017. Managing the Sonic Environment: Ambient Noise, Creativity and the Regime of Ubiquitous Work. Journal of Sonic Studies 15. https://www.researchcatalogue.net/view/409483/409484. Accessed: 20 December 2017.

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“Party music”, expression of identities, aesthetics and power in the African diaspora

Frank Marcon Universidade Federal de Sergipe, Social Sciences Department, Aracaju, Sergipe, Brazil [email protected] Using ethnographies conducted in discos in Lisbon (Portugal) and Salvador (Brazil), recognized for being “African” nightclubs or promoting the so-called “African” parties, I analyze the processes, aesthetic, the meanings and the dynamics of identity and difference in contexts of social arrangements mediated by music and dance in the diaspora. In the cases examined, the issue of ethnicity and generational cut are from privileged participant observation of their expres- sivities, their practices and their narratives. I focus especially on narratives about the life trajectories of DJs, producers and animators of these parties, as well as the narratives about music, dance, body, immigration and identities, prepared by producers and participants. In both ethnographies, the music played, heard and danced is the urban and contemporary music produced in different African and Caribbean countries, with predominance of electronic music in digital formats, often mixed by DJs during its execution. Here I am interested in analyzing and understanding the dynamics of these events for mobilizing stakeholders and what they represent as an expression of youth agencies implicated by the experience of the diaspora and lifestyles activated there.

Keywords: party music, identities, aesthetics, power, African diaspora, kuduro

Using ethnographies conducted in Lisbon (Portugal) and Salvador (Brazil), in the so-called “African parties”, I analyze the meanings and dynamics of identification and difference in contexts of sociability mediated by music and dance in the diaspora. In the book Atlantic Black (2001), Paul Gilroy argues for the need to shift our epistemological perspectives from Eurocentric and ethnocentric roots to thinking about the black diaspora in a non-essentialist way. The author proposes a displacement from this perspective towards analyzing the flow of people, ideas, commodities through the understanding of the flow as a process. Thus, the Black

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Atlantic is used as a metaphor to think of the movements, dialogues and communicative circuits that enabled the dispersed populations to talk, interact and, more recently, synchronize elements of their cultural and social lives (Gilroy 2001). This perspective considers the personal trajectories, memories, kinship and sound, as well as corporal and cultural repertoires that are resignified in these transits. For Gilroy (2001), music played a key role in expression in the diaspora. Music and dance have and continue to accompany the trajectories, sensitivities and memories of people in these transnational movements. In addition, these flows have gained greater autonomy, since the expansion and growth of computer networking over the past two decades, which has progressively expanded the access to digital technologies and the process of digitization of audios and videos shared in this network. In the cases analyzed here, Salvador and Lisbon, the music played, heard and danced is the urban and contemporary music originated in different African and Caribbean countries, with the predominance of electronic music produced, digitally reproduced and spread with immigration, being lived, translated and resignified. Electronic and digital music in the diaspora Music made from microcomputer beats began to become a style present in large African cities in the mid-1990s, which had already been happening in American and European cities, since the emergence of the techno and house styles of music. In the city of Luanda (Angola), a style of music appeared which is associated with a way of dancing that became popular and known as kuduro. This style of music exclusively made in digital form, in home studios, started to gain great projection in the dancing parties of adolescents and young people in Angola. The novelty is that this music was and continues to be made by young people, in improvised studios and using microcomputers. In other African countries, still as part of the same phenomenon, other styles of music produced digitally by and for young people and adolescents also began to emerge: afrobeat (Nigeria), afrohouse (South Africa), azonto (Ghana), Coupé- Décalé (Côte d’Ivoire), Kwaito (South Africa), mahraganat (Egypt), among others. In Luanda, the context was widespread poverty, a large number of children, adolescents and young people in precarious situation, informal economy and limited access to technology. With the passing of the years, other existing musical styles before exclusively electronic songs, like kuduro, also began to be produced digitally. For example, quizomba and semba, styles that emerged in the 1960s and 1970s, began to be influenced by digital technologies in their production process and in the creation of beats and mixes.

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The emerging digital music scene became rapidly popular, including key actors such as producers and DJs, and infrastructure such as improvised studios and new information and communication technologies that have re-engineered production, creativity, circulation, and musical consumption. The expertise of the first producers and early DJs gradually intensified and diversified the possibilities of musical production that had been stagnating since the bankruptcy of the professional studio structure and the phonographic industry, inherited from colonial times. In the big African cities, the appearance of digital electronic music was associated with migratory movements and political changes that occurred with the end of the Cold War. This opened the countries’ economies to the global market, the Internet and increased the access to information and communication technologies, even if this access has occurred less intensely and with some delay, compared to other regions of the world. In the case of the emergence of kuduro, the style began to be produced from the sparse computer technology that became available in the mid-1990s in Luan- da. At that time, young people began to mix other external musical references and adapted them to local sound and body languages, that is, the beats of techno and house began to be mixed with sounds and beats recovered from the traditional music of ethnic origin. These traditional styles were heard or played in the districts of Luanda, or they came to be influenced by popular styles like semba, quizomba or hip hop, that were already circulating in one of the most populous and more ethnically diverse cities of Africa. In Portugal, for example, with some tens of thousands of Angolan immigrants residing in peripheral neighborhoods, along with other young people from Portuguese-speaking African Countries (PALOPs), kuduro was socialized among a large community of immigrants, together with funaná, quizomba, semba, hip hop and some other styles of music that began to be produced digitally, in the peripheral districts of Lisbon. This music, produced in improvised studios in the rooms of their own homes, became a strong expression of socialization of these immigrants in the party environments also produced by them. This situation has been repeated, with the particularities of the different African migratory movements, in various European and American cities, as is the case of Salvador, Brazil, as I will discuss below. Increasingly easy access to the means of music production and the dynami- zation of the circulation of this musical style through computers and other digital media (the Internet) have expanded its reach globally. Digital music produced on the periphery of large African cities has spread through several cities around the world through immigration. The worldwide web also contributed to this flow and the possibility of exchanges, research, curiosity, access to music and video clips

[email protected] 292 Frank Marcon produced digitally by these young DJs, MCs, dancers and producers, enables their reinterpretation and recreation through the music sampler and mix in the diaspora. African party and music to dance In the so-called African parties, often performed in nightclubs, bars or rented halls in the cities of Lisbon and Salvador, music and dance are expressed in compact form as the one sound and performance expression of the event. The party is the environment of these songs, made by young immigrants and Afro-descendants with the goal of fun, leisure and socialization. The dancing aesthetics of these electronic songs involves many body movements, in some cases more frenetic and in other cases modulated; more playful or more sensu- ous, performed in solos, groups or pairs. All these expressions can be present in the same party, following a script that will depend on the time, the public and the place. The musical style, the speed of the beat and the direction of the DJ define the rhythm of the aesthetic evolution of the dance and the motivation of the party. They are songs made for the purpose of animation through dance. Afrohouse, funk, kuduro, quizomba, reggaton, semba, among other sound styles, are part of the repertoires used to be heard, danced and watched in African nightclubs and parties. These songs are usually reproduced and mixed with new sound and technological effects through the live performance of the DJs that imposes its authorial version on many of them, changing the speed of the beats, seeking to find a pulsation to keep with the demand of the audience and with the intention of cap- tivating and surprising the audience. The parties activate the motivation through which this dance music began to be produced and consumed. The high sound volume, projection of video clips and the effects of stage lights complete the atmosphere of these parties, where music and dance are the main stimuli responsible for the longevity and mainte- nance of the event. In Lisbon, several establishments were known for playing African songs and for characterizing themselves as dancing places frequented by immigrants and their descendants. These places were, among others, nightclubs such as the “Kandandu”, located in Santos, “Mussulo” in Picoas, “Luanda” in Alcântara, “Sarabanda” in Entrecampos, as well as bars with dance floors where occasional parties take place in the peripheral districts of the Lisbon Metropolitan Area (“Arroja”, “Fetais”, “Massamá” and “Quinta do Mocho”). African nightclubs and parties have become part of an African evening circuit in Lisbon, which the locals recognize as being characterized by weekly meetings, with themed parties, organized by producers, entertainers and DJs. For years, these spaces have been

[email protected] “Party music”, expression of identities, aesthetics and power 293 places where people meet and socialize, bringing together different social classes and age groups of immigrants and descendants of immigrants from Angola, Cape Verde, Guinea-Bissau, Mozambique, São Tome and Principe. In the city of Salvador, the context in which these songs appear are the parties created with the purpose of gathering people around, what is considered a lifestyle shared by young people with common experiences and tastes, relating to what they consider to be “African” music and dance. Most of the public at these parties are African immigrants and their neighbors, college or work buddies. Some party planners claim that half of their clientele is formed by African immigrants and the other half by Brazilians. In general, these “African parties” are held on Friday or Saturday nights. They happen in different places of the city, concentrating in the neighborhoods of Campo Grande, in the district of Barra and, mainly, in the bohemian neighborhood of Rio Vermelho, forming a circuit of African music parties, every fort- night. The neighborhoods mentioned are considered urban areas that offer nightlife activities in Salvador, linked to the consumption of different musical styles offered by nightclubs, restaurants and bars of different styles, with or without dance floors. Such events and environments are part of what can also be termed more generally as “night culture”, both in Salvador as well as Lisbon. This “night culture”, as Margulis (1994) calls it in his study about Buenos Aires, is expressed in a temporality of the life of big cities, in which certain nocturnal social practices are based on leisure, consumption and festivities. In the context of this “night culture”, young people are the majority and the different party circuits are marked by taste and style. Thus, the night is the moment to find suitable spaces, to integrate and differentiate themselves, that is, to also construct spaces of identity and difference marked by choices based on elements of style, affection and symbols (Margulis 1994). The type of music, environment, location, economic power, dress code, appearance, and other aesthetic and power elements can define closeness or distance among people within a type of party or night party circuit. The African music parties in Salvador and Lisbon are places where people dance a certain style of music, but also meet others, develop meaningful relationships, seek sound and body memories and have experiences that become defining in terms of identity. In this sense, people collectively mark their presence in the city, as opposed to other spaces of leisure and musicality. They seek the visibility and strengthening of personal ties through rhythms and body expression outside of other contexts, in which social relations are more tense and sometimes more oppressive and hierarchical, such as what immigrants experience in places like school, work place and housing.

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The so-called African parties in Lisbon or Salvador reveal interesting forms of social distinction of experience in the diaspora, and the producers, DJs and animators of these parties acquire a fundamental role in this model of distinctive social experience based on music and dance. In this case, party goers negotiate the social meanings of their musical taste that identifies them, what they say they enjoy doing: dancing, listening to music and consuming, building their own spaces of legitimacy, sociability and visibility in cities in which they now live. Producers, DJs and public Party and music producers, DJs, entertainers and dancers are among the main mobilizers of these parties. The public is often composed of the same people, men and women, the majority of them are of African origin, various age groups, although the average age is between eighteen and thirty years. According to Thorthon (1996) it is interesting to think about how people live their experiences in dance environments and events; who these people are, who produce and attend these parties, as well as how these people express themselves through a certain taste and lifestyle. In Lisbon, African parties have DJs and entertainers, who sometimes also produce their own events. Some DJs have become big stars, invited to perform in different establishments and act as a decoy for the public. Others are called resi- dent DJs and are considered permanent members of the establishment where they work. DJs who produce their own parties rent spaces in nightclubs or some other establishment used for themed parties. Other times, the producers are entertainers who produce their parties or are hired to accompany the DJ in the animation of these events. The party entertainer is generally known to a good number of people in the audience, talks a lot during the party, encourages people to dance and demonstrates how to dance a given style or a given song. Their role is to bring audiences to the party and keep it lively from start to finish. All the DJs and animators I interviewed in Lisbon were immigrants born in Angola, Cape Verde, Guinea Bissau, Sao Tome and Principe. All of them came to Lisbon as children, lived in the outskirts of town, were young people under thirty four years of age and got involved with electronic music as teenagers, from family collections and contacts through the internet or traveling with friends and relatives. In the case of the DJs, everyone learned how to produce music and mix it alone or with friends on simple microcomputers and still keep their improvised studios at home, sometimes in their own bedroom. Some of those who play more often and longer, started to invest in their own equipment and became well- known names not only in the African night, but in the Lisbon night culture in general. They have some prestige in the musical environment and nightclubs.

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For DJs and entertainers, working with music began as a curiosity, leisure, and became a way of passing time, earning some money, surviving and working. Contrary to the social and working expectations for African immigrants in Por- tugal, who often engage in activities of lesser social prestige and visibility, DJs and party animators, on the contrary, have brought cultural visibility for immigrants and recognition to their musical styles. They have become references of music to dance to at African parties and gained greater prestige at party nights in Lisbon, receiving invitations to perform in other Portuguese and European cities not only in African music parties, but also in electronic music for a diverse audience, as is the case of the DJs Marfox, Pausas, Firmeza, Kavipion and Nervoso. In Salvador there are no African music nightclubs, but seasonal parties in spaces rented by the producers. The scene of the African parties is smaller, just as the immigrant presence is also smaller in Salvador. There is also no figure of the animator, as in Lisbon, someone who spends the night talking to the public. Even though the DJs also become producers, their closest friends often animate the parties, with dance steps and with effusive expressions asking the public to dance. For the DJs Fábio, Joly and Elton, who produce parties and shows in Salvador, the goal is to bring the dance rhythms that are a success in different countries of Africa, to attract the immigrants that live in the city, so that they feel “like they were at home”, but, at the same time, with the intention that this could also attract “Brazilians” who enjoy “African music”. For them, the songs they use are part of a dance repertoire. The styles that should be in the list of songs played are afrohouse, kuduro, quizomba and reggaton, which are electronic rhythms with the presence of digitized drum beats and more or less accelerated beats, in which some sequences are more pulsating than others, but in which the beat of the drums is strongly marking the rhythm. They affirm themselves in the night culture in Salvador as “DJs of African electronic music” and they throw parties like Noite Africana (African Night), Afro Rave and Socakuduro. According to DJ Raiz, his parties have the objective of bringing together various groups of young people for a social experience with music, seeking to encourage group, partner or solo dance. The dance, according to its web page, also allows participants to learn about African rhythms and rhythms called by them as rhythms of the African diaspora. The proposal of the dance is present in all the parties’ schedules, either spontaneously as leisure or also as a way of spreading and learning the styles. For example, DJ Fábio says that one of the goals in designing the music videos of the songs he plays is to get people familiar with the physical way music is played and the audience can understand how the songs are related to a given style of behavior and body movement. The idea is to share locally the social experiences and knowledge of the music produced in various places of the diaspora.

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According to the producer and also DJ of the Sokaduro party, his repertoire is the result of the Internet research on rhythms that play in different African countries and on the production of the rhythms of the African diaspora that have arisen in the Caribbean, America and Europe. This, according to him, involves a lot of information exchange through social networks and content sharing about what is evident in different countries, as well as skill and creativity on using media equipment and electronic music in the creation of the repertoires and the mixes for the dances. His work is performative and aims to bring the audience to the dance floor, the vibration and affinities with the rhythms of what he considers to be the “contemporary musical beats of Africa and the diaspora”. The ideas of “Africa” and “diaspora” affirmed by the interlocutors are ways of expressing a characterization of a wide musical scene in which the DJs and the public imagine to be connected through a sonorous and cultural proximity with an Africa dispersed over the world, as a collective memory and experience sen- timent. In this case, the “diaspora” as a native category is associated with imaginary symbolic connections that are related and shared in some measure through the party, music and dance. These characteristics mark a reference of identification with this style of dance music, with the meanings of all those who understand the meanings of words and the demarcation of a proper space of socialization in the cultural consumption scenario of Salvador. They are descendants of Africans or immigrants, temporary or permanent, cultural producers and music researchers, promoters of cultural movements linked to music, dance and the contemporary culture defined as African. They are replacing the meanings about Africa in Brazil and Portugal, creating spaces of sociability, resisting the hegemony of western music, seeking visibility and creating a scenario of approach and distance in which identities and differences become a context of affirmation, alterity and multiple ambivalences. These young immigrants began to define their places and their forms of collective intervention and affirmation from the leisure, style and taste they share together of an African way of being through music, dance and party. Final considerations The production and consumption of digitally reproduced musical styles, which proliferate as they collaborate more or less with party circuits, have promoted ways of socializing and gathering young people who share common tastes based on electronic and dance music recognized as African, peripheral and diasporic. They are young people who share the culture of the parties, who come together as a result of common tastes in dance, through which they recover repertoires of family memories or their own life trajectories and translate them into a new setting of distinctions. They transform the taste for music into collective feelings,

[email protected] “Party music”, expression of identities, aesthetics and power 297 re-elaborate aesthetics through the meeting supported by the communicative link of the dancing parties, as an important reference of the demarcation of what they think and what they feel. The African parties in cities like Lisbon and Salvador are expressions of this taste that has worked as a signifier of Africanness. Its characteristics of independent production, ease of mobility by the use of electronic equipment and fast sharing by Internet characterizes a form of acting and interacting that is ruled by a way of generational recognition of how to do it, that dynamizes the socialization of the taste and style in different situations, including adverse ones such as immigration. In the context of Salvador and Lisbon, the electronic music of African parties constitutes the sign of the leisure circuits that give collective meanings to the social interactions among young people coming from different countries of the African continent. In this case, other meanings of Africa begin to be disputed and implied by the trajectories of contemporary migration, by the national and ethnic sentiments that emerge from such experiences of displacements and by the sym- bology that affirms the “African diaspora” as a strong reference of Black African identification and also become a social, cultural and generational distinction in the context of these recent migratory experiences. The redefining of a subject or a social group of identification and difference in the diaspora encompasses, among other issues, the dynamics of musical and physical experiences built in the environments of these African parties, mediated by producers, DJs, animators and the public, who is faithful to this style. References Borelli, S. and Freire Filho, J. Eds. 2008. Culturas juvenis no século XXI. São Paulo: Educ. Ennes, M. A. and Marcon, F. 2014. Das identidades aos processos identitários: Repensan- do conexões entre cultura e poder. Sociologias 16: 274 ̶ 305. Feixa, C. 2004. A construção histórica da juventude. In: A. Caccia-Bava, C. Feixa, Y. Cangas Eds. Jovens na América Latina. São Paulo: Escrituras: 251 ̶ 327. Giloy, P. 2001. O Atlântico Negro. São Paulo ̶ Rio de Janeiro: Ed. 34 ̶ UCAM. Lévy, P. 1999. Cibercultura. São Paulo: Editora 34. Marcon, F. and Tomas, C. 2012. Kuduro, Juventude e Estilo de Vida: Estética da Diferença e Cenário de Escassez. Tomo 21: 137 ̶ 167. Marcon, F. ̶ 2013. O kuduro como expressão da juventude em Portugal: estilos de vida e processos de identificação. Revista Sociedade e Estado 28 (1): 75 ̶ 90. 2015. Música Digital, Juventudes e Formas de socialização Através do Kuduro. Vivência: Revista de Antropologia 1: 45 ̶ 56.

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Margulis, M. 1994. “La cultura de la noche”. In M. Margulis et al. Eds. La cultura de la noche: La vida nocturna de los jóvenes en Buenos Aires. Buenos Aires: Biblos: 11 ̶ 30. Thorton, S. 1996. Club Cultures: Music, Media and Subcultural Capital. Middetown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press.

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Erratum

Michailowsky, Alexei. 2017. Shaping the pancadão: Improvisation and studio creativity on Rio funk independent recordings from the early 1990s. In J. Merril Ed. Popular music studies today: Proceedings of the International association for the study of popular music 2017. Weisbaden: Springer: 203 ̶ 212: I thank FAPEMIG (Fundação de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estado de Minas Gerais) for supporting the research project that this article originates from.

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